05-04-2015, 04:42 PM
The blade punched through the ribs and out the other side, impaling the last troll on the dull length of steel. The creature growled and scratched helplessly at the undead warrior’s ice slick armor, before he went limp. With that, the Chosen simply lifted a foot and pushed him off the Sunlight Straight Sword, letting him fall into the snow with the rest of his companions. Another scouting...hunting or whatever party of trolls taken down, the third since he had slain the first, four whole days ago. Four days, and he had still not yet found the Cobalt he was after. It was his last task that was uncertain, once he fetched a sizable chunk he could head down to Dwarfholm and complete the final task, duelling with one of the dwarven champions. He had slowly been moving closer and closer to the center of the Frozen Fields, where the mountains were tallest and the dragons supposedly dwelt in the peaks. Said peaks were where he needed to find his cobalt, but if anything that just made him more confident. Back in Lordran, by some strange twist of fate, all the most valuable and important materials, from chunks of titanite to great slabs of it, had been found only in the most dangerous of places, guarded by the most dangerous of creatures. So, as he had had no luck finding cobalt, he might as well follow what he learned in Lordran, and head to the most dangerous places.
He was even now on the slopes of one of those great mountains, he had been resting to observe and prepare for his journey upwards when the scouting party had attacked...and then been summarily executed. Still, with them taken care of, the Chosen Undead felt like he was sufficiently prepared for one of the tallest peaks around, well not the tallest, but the central ones were significantly higher than the outer ones. It would be a bit more difficult, and far, far more unpleasant if he slipped and fell...but well he would simply have to make sure that didn’t happen! Thus, confident, prepared and hopefully about to find his cobalt, the Chosen Undead began making his way up the mountain. It was slow going, but steady, comfortable work. He had long since adjusted to the cold, or perhaps his withered frame had simply gone numb? Either way, as long as he was attentive and careful, the cold was no real threat to him. The knight just continued on upwards, walking over slips, climbing along icy, rough cliffs, and goodness gracious this mountain was high! He wouldn’t actually be getting to the top of it before nightfall came, he would need to find a suitable slope to make camp. Not unusual, he rarely ever actually made camp in the lowest valleys of the Frozen Fields, most of the time it was a slope, a higher valley or something similar. Mountains were not just straight perfectly sloped spines after all, they went steep, shallow and could connect and disconnect randomly in such a dense, mountainous area. So there was nothing for it, about halfway up this mighty, massive peak, he stopped at a rather lovely shallow area, no trees here, but he was able to summon up a bonfire, and then just relax through the night. While he did not sleep, even he was not so foolish as to try and climb such a tall, icy mountain in the dark of night.
He spent this time simply thinking and contemplating as he always did, staring into the flames as they twisted and wrapped around the charred black blade that so typified the bonfires of his world. What exactly was he doing? He hadn’t the faintest idea, right now he was just trying to befriend the dwarves while he puzzled over why he was in the Omniverse. The dwarves, and presumably most others, seemed to believe that they were just here for the entertainment of Omni himself. Was that true? Did Omni just throw them into this clashing series of universes to sit back, grin and observe? He did not know, that seemed more like something to ask the god directly...if one could find him. The hours passed as the Chosen’s thoughts churned over the subject of the Omniverse...but eventually, the sun rose up, dawn shed its light upon the mountains, twinkling between two distant peaks. Thus, he shook off such perplexing, confusing thoughts, banished the fire...and began his climb anew. Morning wore on, the sun slowly climbing higher, until it at last became unfettered by the mountains that sought to hide it from sight, although that still left it fuzzy behind the constant clouds that rarely parted, and more often simply disgorged freezing snow and hail upon the mountains. However, while the sun was rising, the Chosen would at last find that which he sought, before it reached its peak in the sky. Fortune decided to smile upon him once again.
Up ahead, and to his left, was a great flat expanse of cliff, it looked...rough, not as smooth or as icy, as if it had been hewn into the side of the mountain, rather than formed naturally. It was lined with a rough circle of rocks, and they caught his eye. Something silvery, and so he maneuvered towards it, hoisting himself up and over, until he landed on the rounded shelf of rock. There...was not even ice on this stone, or snow...most strange, and very suspicious. Perhaps it would be better not to dwell here. So he moved to one of the great chunks of rock, twice as big as his head in fact, it had a silvery, grey sheen to it, rough and metallic...was this? It must be, he had been shown a piece of it before heading out. This was cobalt! He grinned beneath his helmet, and quickly moved it behind him, stuffing it into the bottomless box, where it vanished, despite the fact that the hole did not seem nearly big enough to fit such a great chunk of rock. Now, it was time to get out of here...but right as he turned around, there came a great sound, a solid thwump of wind, and one he knew well, he had seen creatures that flew before, one creature in particular came to mind. A creature that had brought him much grief back in the castles of Lordran, the Hellkite. This was not the Hellkite, but he still rushed forward, ducking behind a large boulder in preparation. It was for naught, there was no great sweep of fire, the cliffside was not doused in liquid flame to scour the flesh from his bones...and he may well have lost his chance to escape unnoticed. For the dragon swooped in, and then settled, landing with a heavy, crunching thump on the rocky surface. It was long, and sleek, about three times the length and bulk of the green drakes that lurked in the Valley of Drakes in Lordran. That likely put it at close to...thirty feet long, and thicker than he was tall.
The creature snorted, and its head turned, to look right at the Chosen crouching behind a boulder. He looked at it, and it looked at him, and he knew exactly what was coming, he didn’t need to see its head draw back, and hear the loud hiss of inhaling air. The knight sprang into motion he had faced drakes and dragons, from the Hellkite to even the great black dragon Kalameet, the one thing you needed to remember was that distance was rarely your friend, closer could often be safer! He jumped up, and went into a roll, his speed seeming to double as he rolled and landed on one knee and a foot, the dragon’s flaming breath spraying over him, harmlessly washing over the rocks, while he was right between its forelegs! He did not hesitate, out came the sunlight straight sword, drawn in one smooth motion, and then thrust sharply upwards! It did not go as intended though. It hit the scales of the belly, paler than the dark blue of the dragon itself, colors he had never seen on a drake, it dug in slightly...but then slid clear, unable to pierce its tough, formidable hide. That was bad, his Sunlight Straight Sword might not be able to hack it here, and he did not fancy his chances of parrying a dragon. That left...three tools in his arsenal, one of which could tire him out if used recklessly, and the other two required good distance! More importantly though, the dragon reared up, feeling the attempt to pierce its scales, it let out a thunderous bellow, as one of its clawed forelegs sweeped towards him. He could not recover in time, and the great talon bashed into his side, sending him sprawling!
The scraping of his metal armor on the rocky surface was horrendous, but he quickly rolled, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow as the dragon brought a talon down with nearly all its weight, cracking the stone! With no time to lose he got to his feet, and ran for the edge of this flat outcropping of stone. The surroundings were steep, but not sheer cliff, if he could control his slide down perhaps the beast would lose interest. At worst he would at least have distance to prepare his great bow, or even the far more devastating Lightning Spear! He dove and hit the snowy surface, snow spraying up as his body rolled. He ground his teeth and brought his sword up, slamming it into the side. It scraped and bit, but managed to slow him down, managed to keep him from rolling just enough that he was able to gain a slight modicum of control. He levered his feet downwards and began to slide. It was brilliantly cold, so perhaps he hadn’t gone numb after all! From above him, came the bellow of the great beast as it took off from its lair, evidently it was not going to simply let him leave! However, he did not look up, he kept his gaze down, he needed somewhere to land, somewhere stable to bring out his greatbow! The beat of the dragon’s wings filled the air as the Chosen kept sliding down, and then he heard the sharp intake, and sharply twisted his body left, pushing into the ground with his sword. It managed to do it, he started sliding to his left, racing across the snow. A great gout of flame hit the mountainside, snow hissing and flashing to vapor upon the reach of it. He could feel the heat from here, narrowly avoiding taking the full brunt of it, which would be far from pleasant! More importantly down ahead the slope leveled out, getting shallower, was it stable enough to use the greatbow? He would have to try! The Chosen angled himself further as the dragon swooped ahead of him, soaring up above to turn around for another pass. Once again he dug his sword in, but also tried to dig his heels in, slowly halting his slide, it came close to the edge, where it did turn to cliff...but he managed to stop himself, bringing a sigh of relief. The Chosen got up, and there was the dragon, coming at him again! The Chosen stepped back, and then hurled himself left, coming up in a crouch again as flames torched the mountainside...it cleared the snow at least, and melted the ice, the harsh, rough rock was exposed now, more stable ground to fire from! His sword was sheathed and the dragon slayer’s great bow was pulled from the bottomless box, along with the quiver of great, massive, lance like arrows. He stepped onto the wet, solid rock, and planted his feet, before he slammed the stabilizing spike of the bow into the rock. The long arrow was pulled free and placed against the bowstring, and the Chosen inhaled slowly as he drew. The great metallic weapon groaned and creaked as the string was drawn taut, the knight’s body straining, every muscle going taut as he struggled to maintain the draw.
He turned slowly, carefully rotating the bow to keep up his aim. He watched the dragon fly off up the mountainside. It was going to be turning soon, coming around for another pass. That would be the opportunity, that would be the delay in its forward motion that would give him a clean shot! He waited, maintaining the bow...and then the dragon began to turn, forming a large curve around to sweep back and...he released the arrow! The force of the great spear launching was enough to send him skidding backwards, nearly knocking him on his rump. Only long days of experience with the thing stopped him from sprawling and just skidding. Yet his eyes quickly lifted up, moving to the dragon, had his aim been true? Had he provided enough of a lead? The answer was yes, the arrow flew through the air, hurtling along with a low whistle, and then the dragon cried out, a bellow of pure fury and pain as its left back leg twitched and jerked. Had the arrow hit the leg, or just near it? The Chosen couldn’t see, but while the great drake fumbled in its flying, its wings flapped, and it recovered, roaring as it swept by. Its attempt to sweep by him for another bout of flame ruined as it hurtled past him fruitlessly. The Chosen however, still had his bow, and turned around, once again he planted it, once again he drew the arrow back, his body straining as he prepared another great arrow to bring pain to the creature. He drew back, he aimed...and then he fired! The arrow whistled through the air once again as the beast turned around..but it was not stupid, and this time when it turned it went into a dive at the same time, before swooping back up!
The arrow sailed harmlessly over it thanks to that clever maneuver, and it was coming for him...but it was swooping too low. Its wings would be nearly touching the slope when it came past...that was the idea, it wasn’t going to try to burn him, it was going to try to bite or grab him! The bow was dropped, it fell from his hand as he reacted quickly, with a weapon he could only hope had the force to take the beast down, or at least stop this. His hand went back to the bottomless box yet again, diving into it, and gripping the long sturdy handle, he drew it free, the Zweihander seeming to appear from nothing. Taller than he was, perhaps taller than the Dragon Slayer’s Great Bow, it was classified as an Ultra Greatsword in Lordran, and it fit the title! The dragon came towards him, its jaws agape, preparing to bite into his body. Both his hands gripped the hilt of the blade, squeezing it firmly as he braced himself, one leg going back, the foot planted down, before he swung the gleaming, shining steel around in a great arc! The metal hit the creature in the side of the head! The impact was tremendous, the force of it vibrating down the Chosen Undead’s arms, making them tremble and his body shake and slide, but the dragon felt it too! Its head rocked to the side, the Zweihander pushing it along, the blade cracking the small narrow, flexible scales along the head and near the lips. Blood oozed out, but it didn’t quite sever the creature’s jaw, just knocked it aside. There was a squawking bellow as it slid aside and...its wing slammed right into the Chosen’s body! He felt his breastplate cave in from the sheer force of it as he was sent hurtling backwards, fortunately, away from the ledge. The undead warrior went sprawling, the Zweihander falling from his grip as he slid back, the dragon sailing over him further, crashing through the snow and ice, sprawling upwards. Its tail was level with him, the tip just past his feet in terms of location, but the rest of it had gone over him. With a wheezing groan he rolled over and pushed himself up to his knees. In front of him, the dragon was slowly getting up, fangs broken, a shallow gash on the left side of its head...the Zweihander...it wasn’t close enough, the beast was right there, it was stunned...alright, he was ending this battle now! At least, hopefully he was. He pushed himself up to his feet, his left hand going to run along the great dent on his breastplate. He could feel the metal pressing tightly to his chest, but he ignored it. Instead, he brought his right hand up, holding it up to the skies as if beseeching them, and that wasn’t too far off. He was calling upon the sun.
In Lordran and the countries that surrounded it, there were three great powers that affected them and bolstered them. In Astora, the great power there, had been miracles, bolstered by its strong religion and worship of the Old Lords. Miracles were great feats of incredible power, from healing the most horrific of wounds, to creating barriers against the hated Sorceries. Every Miracle was a tale, a story and it was from the memorization and recital of these stories in one’s head that gave the miracles their strength, faith in the tale resulted in the manifestation of the miracle. The tale that sprung to his mind was of the old Silver Knights, and of Gwyn the great Lord of Sunlight, ruler of Lordran in the prime days of the Age of Sunlight. The tale of his knights fighting the arch dragons, and of the manifestation of sunlight into a single, solid spear...a spear of lightning to peel apart and pierce their stony, nigh impenetrable hides. Within his up thrust fist, lightning crackled, it formed from the sunlight itself, crackling and flicking into a long spear, twice as long as he was tall, shining brightly and crackling with pure, unfettered power. In his home, lightning was the bane of dragons of all forms, it was time to see if that was the case here.
Before him the dragon was turning around, growling slowly as it turned to confront this interloper that had so repeatedly hurt it. Distantly he noticed that it was limping, hobbling on its right leg, the left truly had been struck by that first arrow...but this wound, this would would do far worse! With the Lightning Spear in his grasp, his right leg slid back, going into a stable position, his right arm drew back, bending and pulling back, before he heaved forwards! His arm flung forward, it streaked out of his grip, lancing towards the dragon like the pure beam of sunlight that it was! A great high pitched crackling arose as it rushed towards the dragon. It rushed past its head...and struck into its chest. There was no pause, no delay, no flash of light, it simply hit the dragon’s chest...and pierced through, emerging out of its back as the creature let out a shocked bellow. Its head rose up as its reptilian eyes went wide, a great charred hole now in its torso...before it fell down, collapsing as it began to slide down the mountainside. The Chosen simply stepped back to keep from getting tripped down after it, and sighed, sitting down on the cleared rock and groaning as a hand went to the concave dent in his breastplate. That had been...quick, quick but very painful. Still, he had it, Cobalt, a chunk of Cobalt. Once he had had a few hours rest to recover from that, why, he’d be right on his way...this particular quest, was nearly done.
He was even now on the slopes of one of those great mountains, he had been resting to observe and prepare for his journey upwards when the scouting party had attacked...and then been summarily executed. Still, with them taken care of, the Chosen Undead felt like he was sufficiently prepared for one of the tallest peaks around, well not the tallest, but the central ones were significantly higher than the outer ones. It would be a bit more difficult, and far, far more unpleasant if he slipped and fell...but well he would simply have to make sure that didn’t happen! Thus, confident, prepared and hopefully about to find his cobalt, the Chosen Undead began making his way up the mountain. It was slow going, but steady, comfortable work. He had long since adjusted to the cold, or perhaps his withered frame had simply gone numb? Either way, as long as he was attentive and careful, the cold was no real threat to him. The knight just continued on upwards, walking over slips, climbing along icy, rough cliffs, and goodness gracious this mountain was high! He wouldn’t actually be getting to the top of it before nightfall came, he would need to find a suitable slope to make camp. Not unusual, he rarely ever actually made camp in the lowest valleys of the Frozen Fields, most of the time it was a slope, a higher valley or something similar. Mountains were not just straight perfectly sloped spines after all, they went steep, shallow and could connect and disconnect randomly in such a dense, mountainous area. So there was nothing for it, about halfway up this mighty, massive peak, he stopped at a rather lovely shallow area, no trees here, but he was able to summon up a bonfire, and then just relax through the night. While he did not sleep, even he was not so foolish as to try and climb such a tall, icy mountain in the dark of night.
He spent this time simply thinking and contemplating as he always did, staring into the flames as they twisted and wrapped around the charred black blade that so typified the bonfires of his world. What exactly was he doing? He hadn’t the faintest idea, right now he was just trying to befriend the dwarves while he puzzled over why he was in the Omniverse. The dwarves, and presumably most others, seemed to believe that they were just here for the entertainment of Omni himself. Was that true? Did Omni just throw them into this clashing series of universes to sit back, grin and observe? He did not know, that seemed more like something to ask the god directly...if one could find him. The hours passed as the Chosen’s thoughts churned over the subject of the Omniverse...but eventually, the sun rose up, dawn shed its light upon the mountains, twinkling between two distant peaks. Thus, he shook off such perplexing, confusing thoughts, banished the fire...and began his climb anew. Morning wore on, the sun slowly climbing higher, until it at last became unfettered by the mountains that sought to hide it from sight, although that still left it fuzzy behind the constant clouds that rarely parted, and more often simply disgorged freezing snow and hail upon the mountains. However, while the sun was rising, the Chosen would at last find that which he sought, before it reached its peak in the sky. Fortune decided to smile upon him once again.
Up ahead, and to his left, was a great flat expanse of cliff, it looked...rough, not as smooth or as icy, as if it had been hewn into the side of the mountain, rather than formed naturally. It was lined with a rough circle of rocks, and they caught his eye. Something silvery, and so he maneuvered towards it, hoisting himself up and over, until he landed on the rounded shelf of rock. There...was not even ice on this stone, or snow...most strange, and very suspicious. Perhaps it would be better not to dwell here. So he moved to one of the great chunks of rock, twice as big as his head in fact, it had a silvery, grey sheen to it, rough and metallic...was this? It must be, he had been shown a piece of it before heading out. This was cobalt! He grinned beneath his helmet, and quickly moved it behind him, stuffing it into the bottomless box, where it vanished, despite the fact that the hole did not seem nearly big enough to fit such a great chunk of rock. Now, it was time to get out of here...but right as he turned around, there came a great sound, a solid thwump of wind, and one he knew well, he had seen creatures that flew before, one creature in particular came to mind. A creature that had brought him much grief back in the castles of Lordran, the Hellkite. This was not the Hellkite, but he still rushed forward, ducking behind a large boulder in preparation. It was for naught, there was no great sweep of fire, the cliffside was not doused in liquid flame to scour the flesh from his bones...and he may well have lost his chance to escape unnoticed. For the dragon swooped in, and then settled, landing with a heavy, crunching thump on the rocky surface. It was long, and sleek, about three times the length and bulk of the green drakes that lurked in the Valley of Drakes in Lordran. That likely put it at close to...thirty feet long, and thicker than he was tall.
The creature snorted, and its head turned, to look right at the Chosen crouching behind a boulder. He looked at it, and it looked at him, and he knew exactly what was coming, he didn’t need to see its head draw back, and hear the loud hiss of inhaling air. The knight sprang into motion he had faced drakes and dragons, from the Hellkite to even the great black dragon Kalameet, the one thing you needed to remember was that distance was rarely your friend, closer could often be safer! He jumped up, and went into a roll, his speed seeming to double as he rolled and landed on one knee and a foot, the dragon’s flaming breath spraying over him, harmlessly washing over the rocks, while he was right between its forelegs! He did not hesitate, out came the sunlight straight sword, drawn in one smooth motion, and then thrust sharply upwards! It did not go as intended though. It hit the scales of the belly, paler than the dark blue of the dragon itself, colors he had never seen on a drake, it dug in slightly...but then slid clear, unable to pierce its tough, formidable hide. That was bad, his Sunlight Straight Sword might not be able to hack it here, and he did not fancy his chances of parrying a dragon. That left...three tools in his arsenal, one of which could tire him out if used recklessly, and the other two required good distance! More importantly though, the dragon reared up, feeling the attempt to pierce its scales, it let out a thunderous bellow, as one of its clawed forelegs sweeped towards him. He could not recover in time, and the great talon bashed into his side, sending him sprawling!
The scraping of his metal armor on the rocky surface was horrendous, but he quickly rolled, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow as the dragon brought a talon down with nearly all its weight, cracking the stone! With no time to lose he got to his feet, and ran for the edge of this flat outcropping of stone. The surroundings were steep, but not sheer cliff, if he could control his slide down perhaps the beast would lose interest. At worst he would at least have distance to prepare his great bow, or even the far more devastating Lightning Spear! He dove and hit the snowy surface, snow spraying up as his body rolled. He ground his teeth and brought his sword up, slamming it into the side. It scraped and bit, but managed to slow him down, managed to keep him from rolling just enough that he was able to gain a slight modicum of control. He levered his feet downwards and began to slide. It was brilliantly cold, so perhaps he hadn’t gone numb after all! From above him, came the bellow of the great beast as it took off from its lair, evidently it was not going to simply let him leave! However, he did not look up, he kept his gaze down, he needed somewhere to land, somewhere stable to bring out his greatbow! The beat of the dragon’s wings filled the air as the Chosen kept sliding down, and then he heard the sharp intake, and sharply twisted his body left, pushing into the ground with his sword. It managed to do it, he started sliding to his left, racing across the snow. A great gout of flame hit the mountainside, snow hissing and flashing to vapor upon the reach of it. He could feel the heat from here, narrowly avoiding taking the full brunt of it, which would be far from pleasant! More importantly down ahead the slope leveled out, getting shallower, was it stable enough to use the greatbow? He would have to try! The Chosen angled himself further as the dragon swooped ahead of him, soaring up above to turn around for another pass. Once again he dug his sword in, but also tried to dig his heels in, slowly halting his slide, it came close to the edge, where it did turn to cliff...but he managed to stop himself, bringing a sigh of relief. The Chosen got up, and there was the dragon, coming at him again! The Chosen stepped back, and then hurled himself left, coming up in a crouch again as flames torched the mountainside...it cleared the snow at least, and melted the ice, the harsh, rough rock was exposed now, more stable ground to fire from! His sword was sheathed and the dragon slayer’s great bow was pulled from the bottomless box, along with the quiver of great, massive, lance like arrows. He stepped onto the wet, solid rock, and planted his feet, before he slammed the stabilizing spike of the bow into the rock. The long arrow was pulled free and placed against the bowstring, and the Chosen inhaled slowly as he drew. The great metallic weapon groaned and creaked as the string was drawn taut, the knight’s body straining, every muscle going taut as he struggled to maintain the draw.
He turned slowly, carefully rotating the bow to keep up his aim. He watched the dragon fly off up the mountainside. It was going to be turning soon, coming around for another pass. That would be the opportunity, that would be the delay in its forward motion that would give him a clean shot! He waited, maintaining the bow...and then the dragon began to turn, forming a large curve around to sweep back and...he released the arrow! The force of the great spear launching was enough to send him skidding backwards, nearly knocking him on his rump. Only long days of experience with the thing stopped him from sprawling and just skidding. Yet his eyes quickly lifted up, moving to the dragon, had his aim been true? Had he provided enough of a lead? The answer was yes, the arrow flew through the air, hurtling along with a low whistle, and then the dragon cried out, a bellow of pure fury and pain as its left back leg twitched and jerked. Had the arrow hit the leg, or just near it? The Chosen couldn’t see, but while the great drake fumbled in its flying, its wings flapped, and it recovered, roaring as it swept by. Its attempt to sweep by him for another bout of flame ruined as it hurtled past him fruitlessly. The Chosen however, still had his bow, and turned around, once again he planted it, once again he drew the arrow back, his body straining as he prepared another great arrow to bring pain to the creature. He drew back, he aimed...and then he fired! The arrow whistled through the air once again as the beast turned around..but it was not stupid, and this time when it turned it went into a dive at the same time, before swooping back up!
The arrow sailed harmlessly over it thanks to that clever maneuver, and it was coming for him...but it was swooping too low. Its wings would be nearly touching the slope when it came past...that was the idea, it wasn’t going to try to burn him, it was going to try to bite or grab him! The bow was dropped, it fell from his hand as he reacted quickly, with a weapon he could only hope had the force to take the beast down, or at least stop this. His hand went back to the bottomless box yet again, diving into it, and gripping the long sturdy handle, he drew it free, the Zweihander seeming to appear from nothing. Taller than he was, perhaps taller than the Dragon Slayer’s Great Bow, it was classified as an Ultra Greatsword in Lordran, and it fit the title! The dragon came towards him, its jaws agape, preparing to bite into his body. Both his hands gripped the hilt of the blade, squeezing it firmly as he braced himself, one leg going back, the foot planted down, before he swung the gleaming, shining steel around in a great arc! The metal hit the creature in the side of the head! The impact was tremendous, the force of it vibrating down the Chosen Undead’s arms, making them tremble and his body shake and slide, but the dragon felt it too! Its head rocked to the side, the Zweihander pushing it along, the blade cracking the small narrow, flexible scales along the head and near the lips. Blood oozed out, but it didn’t quite sever the creature’s jaw, just knocked it aside. There was a squawking bellow as it slid aside and...its wing slammed right into the Chosen’s body! He felt his breastplate cave in from the sheer force of it as he was sent hurtling backwards, fortunately, away from the ledge. The undead warrior went sprawling, the Zweihander falling from his grip as he slid back, the dragon sailing over him further, crashing through the snow and ice, sprawling upwards. Its tail was level with him, the tip just past his feet in terms of location, but the rest of it had gone over him. With a wheezing groan he rolled over and pushed himself up to his knees. In front of him, the dragon was slowly getting up, fangs broken, a shallow gash on the left side of its head...the Zweihander...it wasn’t close enough, the beast was right there, it was stunned...alright, he was ending this battle now! At least, hopefully he was. He pushed himself up to his feet, his left hand going to run along the great dent on his breastplate. He could feel the metal pressing tightly to his chest, but he ignored it. Instead, he brought his right hand up, holding it up to the skies as if beseeching them, and that wasn’t too far off. He was calling upon the sun.
In Lordran and the countries that surrounded it, there were three great powers that affected them and bolstered them. In Astora, the great power there, had been miracles, bolstered by its strong religion and worship of the Old Lords. Miracles were great feats of incredible power, from healing the most horrific of wounds, to creating barriers against the hated Sorceries. Every Miracle was a tale, a story and it was from the memorization and recital of these stories in one’s head that gave the miracles their strength, faith in the tale resulted in the manifestation of the miracle. The tale that sprung to his mind was of the old Silver Knights, and of Gwyn the great Lord of Sunlight, ruler of Lordran in the prime days of the Age of Sunlight. The tale of his knights fighting the arch dragons, and of the manifestation of sunlight into a single, solid spear...a spear of lightning to peel apart and pierce their stony, nigh impenetrable hides. Within his up thrust fist, lightning crackled, it formed from the sunlight itself, crackling and flicking into a long spear, twice as long as he was tall, shining brightly and crackling with pure, unfettered power. In his home, lightning was the bane of dragons of all forms, it was time to see if that was the case here.
Before him the dragon was turning around, growling slowly as it turned to confront this interloper that had so repeatedly hurt it. Distantly he noticed that it was limping, hobbling on its right leg, the left truly had been struck by that first arrow...but this wound, this would would do far worse! With the Lightning Spear in his grasp, his right leg slid back, going into a stable position, his right arm drew back, bending and pulling back, before he heaved forwards! His arm flung forward, it streaked out of his grip, lancing towards the dragon like the pure beam of sunlight that it was! A great high pitched crackling arose as it rushed towards the dragon. It rushed past its head...and struck into its chest. There was no pause, no delay, no flash of light, it simply hit the dragon’s chest...and pierced through, emerging out of its back as the creature let out a shocked bellow. Its head rose up as its reptilian eyes went wide, a great charred hole now in its torso...before it fell down, collapsing as it began to slide down the mountainside. The Chosen simply stepped back to keep from getting tripped down after it, and sighed, sitting down on the cleared rock and groaning as a hand went to the concave dent in his breastplate. That had been...quick, quick but very painful. Still, he had it, Cobalt, a chunk of Cobalt. Once he had had a few hours rest to recover from that, why, he’d be right on his way...this particular quest, was nearly done.