Hello once again. This time, a little deviation from the main game, but nonetheless kind of believable, considering you do have to fight this enemy at one point, maybe not in the same way, definitely not in the same way, but nonetheless, a battle. As I’m doing this, I’m sort of realizing that I’m doing this in an unfamiliar style. You know, in the third person rather than a first person retelling. I usually write in the first person, and I feel that the first person narrator is a pretty cool style. But the third person narrator-style is more the norm, I think. But anyway, yeah, I just suddenly realized, “Hey, I’m doing this in third person”, which yeah, is quite odd considering I only noticed this now, but hey, I guess I was just…. I don’t know. I still find it strange that I’m writing this in a style that I’m not that versed in. But I guess it’s good practice. Expanding my repertoire is good. Anyway here you go, “Hellkite Drake”.
As the Chosen Undead was finished resting, he ventured off. There was a bridge in front of him. The church must be past that bridge, he thought. As the Chosen Undead began walking, he noticed a small legion of Undead Soldiers, and readied himself for combat. But as the Chosen Undead came within battle distance, he heard the flaps of wings from above him, and a large shadow loomed over.
Before he knew it, he was engulfed in flames and a strewn on the bridge. The blast didn’t kill him, however, and he got up. He noticed a large winged beast, a creature with sharp scales and sharp horns. It’s entire body was melded into a crimson red, and it’s wings were as large as it’s body. It’s spiked tail looked like a dangerous weapon, either for the beast, or for the Chosen Undead. It was the Hellkite Drake. He remembered it before, the one that had met him upon his setting foot on the Burg. It perched itself upon the top of the entrance way at the end of the bridge. The fire from before cleared the bridge of all the Undead, but getting past the Drake was going to be a task in of itself.
Suddenly, the Chosen Undead remembered something. He grabbed the White Sign Soapstone and then gripped it as if he was crushing it. The white ornate stone began pulsating and before he knew it, a bright orange glow began pulsating from the ground. It shone brightly for a few more seconds, and before he knew it, Solaire had appeared before him. Without further words, he readied his large round shield and raised his sword. Like his armor, the shield had a painted picture of a sun on it, truly a devout warrior of the sun.
The Chosen Undead drank an Estus to refill his strength and then pressed on with his Black Knight Shield as well. It’s resistant to fire was quite strong, and it would serve him well with this foe. As the two paced forward, the Hellkite Drake opened its mouth, and fire began spewing. It covered the bridge once more, scorching what was already scorched and blanketed the two Undead. They both withstood the attack, and with this notion, the Hellkite Drake roared at the two and then flew down to face the two in battle.
Solaire took point and as he moved into position, the Hellkite Drake stomped in front of him. It’s feet were compromised of four giant nails that acted as sharp fangs, but that wasn’t the only problem Solaire had in front of him. The sheer power of the stomp itself would be enough to knock him out as the rumble from its initial stomp lingered with the Chosen Undead. Solaire then valiantly cut out a morsel from the Hellkite Drake’s leg with his Sunlight Straight Sword. The Chosen Undead took no time to admire and simply came in and did a number on the wounded leg with his Black Knight Sword. The Drake retracted, and then stepped back, albeit with trouble as his legs were now injured. The Drake then turned, in a swift manner, and swiped it’s spiked tail to the two Undead. They both blocked in time, and as the Drake stepped back to face the two Undead, Solaire took another gander at the open wound of the Drake’s leg. The Chosen Undead then doubled back towards the tail, and as he gained footing, brought his sword down into the tail of the Drake. Blood gushed out from the open wound, and the Drake swiped its tail in a blind fit. The Chosen Undead managed to block the incoming swipes, and Solaire took advantage of this. Solaire moved from the foot, and stood in front of the Drake’s gaping mouth. With a quick motion, Solaire took out a small white bundle of cloth, it was his Sunlight Talisman. A gold band tied the cloth together, and a strip of red flew from this tie. He raised it high, towards the Hellkite Drake, and, without missing a blink the Chosen Undead witnessed sparks of lightning erupt from the Talisman. Then, Solaire cocked his arm back, and in his hand was a brilliant spear of lightning. Sparks exuded from it and it was shining ever so brightly in Solaire’s hand. It was the miracle, Lightning Spear.
With his hand overhead, Solaire threw the Lightning Spear straight at the Hellkite Drake’s face, causing it to step back in pain. The Chosen Undead took this as his queue and jumped onto the Hellkite Drake’s back. As he stood on the Hellkite Drake, he plunged his sword deep into its flesh. Blood splattered and gushed out uncontrollably, and the Hellkite Drake frantically shook it’s body. Solaire then ran up, and with his Straight Sword, pierced through the Hellkite Drake’s neck. It roared a silent roar, but after a short period of struggle, it fell. It was almost, saddening, as the Hellkite Drake gave off its last few cries. The Drakes are not dragons, but rather are descendants of dragons, long lost descendants, so long and so lost that, they are nothing but fakes. The immortal scaled dragons of yonder, will surely laugh at what creatures they have left on the land of Lordran. But perhaps, not all dragons are like that, and only time will tell whether the Chosen Undead will come to realize that. Or perhaps, he may never come head to head with reality, for reality is filled with despair, and with despair comes hollowing. And no one, wants to be hollowed. The Chosen Undead will have to press on, find worth, find meaning, for he cannot hollow, he shall not hollow.
Before the Chosen Undead could thank Solaire, he had vanished, without a second word. Left on the scorched bridge floor, now filled with Drake blood, was a single gold medallion. It shone in the dim sunlight, and upon further inspection, there was a picture of a sun on it. The same sun on Solaire’s equipment. It was a Sunlight Medal. The Chosen Undead pocketed it, perhaps, it will come in use, in a time not of his, but in a world elsewhere.
This faintly warm medal engraved with the symbol of the Sun, is the ultimate honor, awarded to those who summon the Warrior of Sunlight and complete a goal.
The symbol represents Lord Gwyn’s firstborn, who lost his deity status and was expunged from the annals. But the old God of War still watches closely over his warriors.
The Chosen Undead pressed on through the bridge and into the arched entrance. In front of him, was a statue. A statue of a woman, holding a child, with a sword in his hand. The Chosen Undead noted this, and then turned to his right. He saw, a statue, broken, scattered on the grass fields. This was the Altar of Sunlight. But the Chosen Undead had neither the faith, nor the idea that this sanctuary, held the covenant of the Warrior of Sunlight. Perhaps if he were to pray, he would gain epiphany, but alas, he stood back, lit the Bonfire that he now noticed, and rested.