You know those stories of a guy going in costume to one place or another and having an essential missing piece to their outfit discovered? Yeah, well, this isn't exactly the norm. Follow the Dragonslayer as he grapples with his memory and royalt
You know those stories of a guy going in costume to one place or another and having an essential missing piece to their outfit discovered? Yeah, well, this isn't exactly the norm. Ornstein is what our hero goes by, for he doesn't remember...well, much of anything. In this tale, one will follow his journey through Equestria, his memories, and his legend, all to find one simple thing...himself. But given a choice, will he return to his home, or will he remain in Equestria as the Old Dragonslayer?
Cover art is by Dawnweaver13. Used without permission. If they don't want it on this story, I'll remove it at their request. And if you, good sir or madam, are reading this, I'd like to say that this is an excellent piece of art!
Crumbling stone...crumbling? Why was it crumbling? I can't breathe...crumbling stone...where am I? Let me out...I can't breathe...I can't...light? Why is there light? Why...can I feel again? I can feel myself falling...falling. That...is that ground? Yes...ground...I am free...ouch!
The form amongst the pile of rubble shifted, revealing the source of its discomfort. A long, finely crafted spear, partially obscured by the stone, shone in the light of the sun. The figure stood, claiming its weapon, and looked itself over. It wore finely crafted armor of an origin known only to itself in this world. The golden sheen had been reduced to a dull grey, but if one looked closely, the armor still had that elegant tint in the light. As it confirmed the truth of the fact, it began to chuckle, remembering how it all began. It was so stereotypical, after all. Going to a costume party in a homemade outfit, getting offered that one essential piece that was missing. But it hadn't had a missing piece. Indeed, if one had looked it over, they would have been hard-pressed to deny that the legendary warrior of the Souls series, Dragonslayer Ornstein, was in the area. So the being in the costume had no idea what the stranger had been talking about, but had been nonetheless intrigued...hadn't it? There was something about a box...wasn't there? It was just so hard to remember...
The Dragonslayer heard a sound. It took a moment to place in its mind...no, HIS mind! That's right, his! He took the necessary moment, and so placed the noise. Hooves and clacking armor. Guards! With a great leap, Ornstein ascended, landing on a balcony with practiced ease. With a glance backward to confirm his suspicions, he leapt once again, exiting the grounds of the castle, the one place he remembered clearly. The place where he had been accused...where he had been defeated. Refusing to confront that memory for now, he used his inhuman athletic capabilities to spring far, leaping from building to building, seeking to leave the...the...city! The city, of course! One giant leap, and the Dragonslayer was racing across countryside, away from the city of his disgrace.
Princess Luna soared across the sky, searching, seeking. She did not know the turmoil at the castle, nor would she care. She had sensed a ripple in reality, a pulse of powerful magic. It was foreign, yet somehow familiar, and highly unpleasant. For the life of her, she could not remember. Nor would she be able to. Though she didn't realize it, the very same magical pulse had occurred during her exile to the moon. Her sister, laying in her bed, knew what it meant, though.
Princess Celestia lay very still, wide-eyed and praying that she was dreaming, that she had not sensed it. Her instincts would not let her. The very fiber of her being screamed for her to flee, to escape the coming darkness. But she could not. What would her subjects do without her, for in that darkness, the sun's light was bright indeed! With a sigh, she rose and prepared to enact the contingencies she had prepared for this moment. However, she knew they would not be enough. She had barely been enough to stop him. And judging by the power of the pulse, he was stronger than before. If it came to blows, she would fail.
Dragonslayer Ornstein would destroy her alone.
Several of the Lunar Guard piled into the Royal Garden, weapons ready and eyes sweeping the area, scanning for the one they had heard. Even though there was no sign of the screamer, they remained on guard, slowly entering the garden and looking every which way with the practiced discipline one would expect for the guardians of the night. As they searched, they worked their way toward the rubble that had caught their eyes. With no sign of the intruder, the leader of the group sent one of his fellows to report the disturbance as the rest scanned the rubble. Turning his attention to the pedestal, he began to search for text, seeking the name of the sculpture that currently lay in pieces. What he found was certainly not what he expected.
Dragonslayer Ornstein Cursed to imprisonment in stone for one thousand years for crimes against the Equestrian populace
Barking out orders, the leader sent one other of the group to report this finding to the captain of the guard, sending the others back to their posts as he stood guard over the scene. He had no doubt that this could mean nothing but trouble.
He was right, but far from understanding the depth of the coming turmoil. The coming of the Dragonslayer's crime. The curse of undeath and hollowing.
The Darksign.
The Dragonslayer lay at the base of a lone tree, resting. He knew that there would be pursuit, that the princesses wouldn't let him go that easily, but he also knew that he couldn't run forever. Besides, the canvas that was the night sky was simply too beautiful to ignore. It was certainly more beautiful than...than...wherever he came from...wasn't it? Or was it simply that it was different...or was it? Ornstein sighed and gazed into the cosmos, seeking to both lose himself in the night and find what was lost. All at once, he saw, as if from memory, the box...so there was a box. He saw the world bending into that box, past his hand. He saw space and time flying by. He again felt the searing agony. He again felt the crushing pain at the landing. And then, it was gone. He tried to recall it, to snatch back the fragment, but it slipped through his grasp like mist.
With a frustrated shout, he jumped to his feet and raced off, his blood boiling, his mind screaming. Screaming for blood. Hot blood running down the shaft of the spear as the victim writhed and bellowed in a death throes. There was only one type of blood that would satisfy him. He leapt over rivers and chasms, dove cliffs and raced across plains, toward the mountains he knew they would dwell.
Soaring through the sky, a hum of contentment rumbled in his throat. The mighty dragon had managed to catch a rather succulent morsel for his daily meal, and with the day so fine and the skies so calm and clear, the flight back to his cavern abode was nothing short of lazy. As he grew close to his little notch in the mountains, though, he began to feel uneasy. That sixth sense, that which warned a former clan dragon of a coming fight, was warning him, urging him to turn around and find another hole. With a snort, the beast banished his unease. What creature would be so foolish as to challenge a mighty, fully-grown dragon?
What creature would be so mighty as to challenge such a dragon? Ornstein stood on a boulder in shadow, his new armor camouflaged in the darkness. While some may have frozen in fear or even fled in terror, all the Dragonslayer did was watch with contempt. The dragon was massive, but not muscular. Its lazy motions mocked him, taunted his absence. When the beast landed, its belly jiggled insultingly, and Ornstein's grip on his spear tightened, longing to puncture that skin and flesh, so simply vulnerable. He held himself in check, however; the one way to properly slay a dragon was within its own home. Perhaps it did not live with others...no matter. There were more dragons, and there would still be dragon clans. The Dragonslayer's return would be known, and the dragons would flee in fear.
He banished all distractions from his mind, then, and dropped to the small off-shooting ledge to the main entrance of the cave. He then made his way to the entrance itself, making no attempt to be stealthy, wanting to fight this dragon on even terms, as he had in his days of glory. In his servitude of...of who? When did he serve anyone? Ornstein halted, staggering slightly at the coming of these thoughts. He paused and steeled himself against them and entered the dragon's abode. Questions later, he told himself. Dragon slaying now.
The dragon glared at the creature that would dare enter his home. And a strange creature it seemed, walking on two legs like a minotaur and yet lacking the horns or physique of one! The dragon stood and let out a roar to express its outrage, expecting the tiny thing to turn tail and run, starting the chase of predator and prey.
Ornstein was not impressed. The dragon's roar was a ploy to strike fear into the hearts of the weak and timid. He was neither. He leveled his spear, allowed its power to collect, and thrusted, sending a bolt of lightning right into the astonished beast's chin, snapping its head back. The dragon's maw came down with a roar of rage, a foolish attempt to crush its skilled opponent. Sidestepping, Ornstein stabbed it in one eye, causing it to reel with a shriek of agony. It growled and reoriented itself before belching a tongue of red flame. When the fires died, the drake brought its head low to observe its handiwork, but was again astonished by the creature, for its roasted form was nowhere to be found!
A flash of movement caught its eye, and it whipped its head around, but unfortunately, in the wrong direction. Ornstein, understanding the dragon's reflexive action, had moved to its blind side. The small clack of his boots colliding with a wall were the only warning the dragon had before he leapt off the surface and drove his spear into its neck. While the dragon turned its head to look at him in disbelief, he did not see it. Instead, as the dragon's head dropped to the stone, he saw a different scene, reminiscent of this very one. A scene originating from a memory he wasn't sure was his own.
A memory of former glory.
Twilight paced anxiously, unable to concentrate on anything but the awaited reply from her mentor, Princess Celestia. She had been awoken by the magical pulse that had so disturbed the princesses, though she did not know it, and had immediately sent a letter inquiring about it. As she waited, she fretted over the wording of the letter and how frantic it seemed, especially now that the event was in the past and she wasn't paralyzed by the strength of it. Spike, who was busy doing the chores he had been assigned with for years, sigh and said "Give it a rest, Twilight, you know she'll answer as soon as she can." When Twilight didn't respond, he sighed and walked over to her. "Twilight." The lavender alicorn jumped, as if she had forgotten he was there.
When her attention was on him, he said "Don't get worked up over this. I know you're worried, but you won't do anypony any good fretting like you are. Whatever it is that has you worked up, it's not gonna be a problem for the princesses. Who knows, it might not even be a bad thing." Twilight smiled weakly in thanks to his reasonable words and set about working on organizing a new shipment of books that had just arrived. Spike's right, she thought. Maybe this is a natural phenomenon that happens every thousand years or so, and won't affect daily life at all. Maybe the princesses did something unique and wonderful. Who knows?
Neither of them could be further from the truth.
The Dragonslayer stood on a ledge, eyes scanning the mountains and horizon, seeking a likely spot. Deducing a likely location, he leapt and began racing down the sheer mountainside, his agility and speed granting him impossible control. When the ground drew near, he leapt and stabbed his spear into the ground, vaulting and dispelling his momentum. There he sat to wait and rest. This next battle would be legendary, he was sure, and would return his glory. Or...was the glory even his? Of that, he wasn't sure.
Celestia groaned, rubbing her eyes with her hooves as she looked over the next report. They were all the same: word spreading slowly, no sightings, and no rumors. The lack of activity was most certainly wearying but not surprising. Despite his speed, she yet to see the Dragonslayer act with haste. He was skilled and experienced, ready to take on any challenge, and highly capable in any situation due to his ability to remain calm. Or at least, to remain in control of himself. She set the report aside and moved on to the next parchment, where her eyes rested on a familiar script that, in a rare occurrence, she had been dreading.
With a sigh, she conjured a quill and parchment and began to write her reply to Twilight. During the time where she was contemplating explaining the magic surge to her pupil, she was distracted by the doors to her study slamming open. Looking towards the cause of disturbance, she sighed again, seeing her sibling in the doorway, her face set in an irritable manner. Luna approached and, in a calm voice, said "The castle is in an uproar, Sister. I..." Pausing, she continued "I have asked for an explanation from all manner of servants and guards, but they were too busy to explain. What is going on?"
Celestia took a moment to gather her thoughts, rubbed her eyes with her hooves again, and said "Do you remember the statue of that human knight in the garden, Luna?" The night princess nodded, her expression becoming curious. Celestia continued, "He is a knight that appeared during your exile to the moon. During the days he ran free, he slew many dragons, and a strange affliction began to spread among our subjects. He clearly knew of it, and as it only appeared during his time, it was clearly linked to him." Celestia paused, searching for the right words, and Luna said "And the effects of the disease?" Celestia sighed, remembering several friends that had been consumed by it, and said "The first sign of it is usually gradual amnesia. After that comes a madness that accompanies aggressiveness, and then their body withers away until it has become wasted, nearly little more than a corpse."
With a deep breath, she continued "Ornstein – the knight I have mentioned – began to broaden his horizon of targets. He began to slaughter our subjects as well as dragons. Where he had been sought for the slaughter of creatures that had not attacked anypony, he became hunted for that very thing. Eventually he sought me out, and we battled." Her eyes become distant, remembering the horrific wounds his weapon had inflicted, how he had seemed largely unaffected by her attacks, and how it had ended. "He was quick and skilled. I was barely able to retaliate, and whatever I did he simply shook off. In the end I was forced to curse him, petrifying him and securing victory – narrowly."
Celestia looked her sister in the eye, paused, and said "The magical pulse you – and Twilight as well – sensed last night occurred on the very day he had appeared. That it has happened again can only mean one thing...he has somehow broken the curse." Luna blinked uncomprehendingly. "Impossible. That curse is designed to last a thousand years. Not even Discord could have broken it." Celestia simply stared at her sister. When her meaning came clear, Luna's eyes widened. "You cannot possibly mean-!" Celestia replied "Yes. In the time that he has been imprisoned, he must have been gaining power. By now he clearly surpasses Discord."
The Dragonslayer certainly felt powerful, standing atop a mountain peak and gazing down at his targets. A whole clan of dragons, some preparing to hunt, most preparing for slumber, lay in a valley concealed by early darkness in the twilight. Ornstein sat where he was, watching. He did not need sleep. At the moment, he did not need to rest. All he had to do is wait. He had already picked his target. The patriarch of the clan, clearly the largest and richest, would have the largest effect if slain. After all, dragon leaders are some of the most skilled and strong of their clan, and it is no mean feat for any to defeat them, much less kill them. Ornstein had done it, though, and he would do it again. But not yet. It was not yet time. At the moment it was time to wait. Wait for the dawn.
The sun's rays spread across the land, crossing rivers and peering into canyons, passing valleys nestled by mountains. In the continuing darkness, the dragons continued to slumber, unaware of the figure walking in their midst, moving steadily towards their sleeping patriarch. Ornstein moved quietly but confidently, certain that he could defeat the dragon and slip away amidst the ensuing chaos. Stopping several meters away from his target, he aimed his spear toward the sky and thrusted upward, firing off a lightning bolt. The ensuing thunder jerked all the beasts awake, and it wasn't long before all eyes within the valley were fixed upon the Dragonslayer. Unbeknownst to him, however, a number of those did not belong to dragons.
Ornstein stood still and silent, waiting for the ensuing uproar to fall, for the surprise of his presence, he knew, would keep the dragons from assaulting him – for now. With a bow, he wordlessly issued his challenge. With a roar, the beast rose to meet him, fire roaring from its maw. The Dragonslayer was expecting it, though, and with a leap, dodged the inferno. As the beast's head turned to attack once more, he leapt forward, his spear aimed for the beast's exposed throat. He could feel the burning anticipation of the kill, so it came as a shock when something slammed into his side, sending him rolling across the ground. He lay still for a moment, unsure what had happened, before standing and looking at the source of the throbbing sensation.
When his eyes met the sight of an arrow piercing his armor and blood running from the ensuing wound, a wave of shock passed over him. He dropped to one knee, clutching the injury, confused by his own reaction. He undoubtedly had suffered more horrific wounds than this during the war with the dragons. Why did it feel so horrible, then? He was startled from his reverie when an armored figure leapt down from one of the ledges on a mountain's side. As the dragons retreated, he tore the arrow from the wound and stood, fighting off a wave of nausea. The warrior was large and heavily armored, equipped with a massive shield and an exotic halberd. Looking up, the Dragonslayer counted two others, both with the same equipment as the one before him, but additionally armed with bows that were currently trained onto him.
He felt as if he should recognize them. Wracking his brain, Ornstein felt the impression that he had seen these warriors before, but any other detail escaped him. With a quick sweeping glance, he confirmed that those three were the only ones present. He also realized that the dragons weren't maintaining their distance defensively, but respectfully! This shocked and confused him so much that he barely registered the halberd's swing in time to dodge. As he moved forward to counterattack, a motion in the edge of his vision caused him to reverse course, narrowly dodging the two arrows launched his way. With a grunt of irritation, he glanced at the two archers and launched a lightning bolt in their direction. As he dodged another swing of the halberd, he observed one of the archers dropping their bow and readying their more personal weaponry before leaping down to join his comrade. With two skilled fighters flanking him and an archer keeping him from counterattacking, it took all the Dragonslayer's skill to avoid the mighty attacks.
As the fight wore on, he began to feel certain of one thing: he could not win this fight. For a brief moment he had the sensation of disgust with himself, another unexpected sensation. Even more unexpected was the sudden and powerful desire to flee! Set off-balance by the sudden sensation, he was lucky enough to only be knocked to the ground by the hit that followed. Swiftly rising to a standing position, he took a last glance at the trio that were his betters before racing off, intent to rest and recover before continuing with his mission. Listening intently for pursuit, it was only moments before the thunderous flapping of massive wings met his ears. Chancing a glance back, he felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach at the sight that he met and a jolt of one last tidbit on the knights. He was pursued by the Dragonriders.
Twilight sighed with relief as she checked off the last objective on her to-do list for the day. Setting it aside, she lay on the couch with a groan, intent to rest the aches that the unexpectedly difficult day had left her. With Spike out playing with the Cutie Mark Crusaders, she was certain that her rest would go undisturbed. Thus, she was fairly perturbed when she was roused by an incessant knocking on her door. With a groan of irritation she rose and answered the door, masking her mood and managing to remain polite as she said “Oh, hello Rainbow. Did you need something?”
Her winged friend was straight to the point, which, Twilight mused, was nice. “Hey Twi! There's something going on in town, I think there might be trouble! Just thought you should know!” With that, she bolted off, likely toward the disturbance. With a sigh, Twilight stepped outside and closed the front door, mentally writing a note to tell her friend off for not giving her anything very specific. It didn't take her long to find the disturbance, as there were many ponies, possibly even Ponyville's who population, gathered up in a circle, all looking in toward the center. With many an “excuse me”, she finally got to a position where she saw just what all the ruckus was about – a strange, obviously armored, bipedal creature stood in the center of the circle, gazing at the sun.
For a moment she froze, startled by this unexpected sight. After taking several deep breaths and steeling herself, she slowly approached the creature, freezing once more as it turned its head to look at her. Unexpectedly, it spoke. “Ah, hello! You must be brave indeed, to approach a stranger to your land.” Twilight took a moment to find her tongue, and when she did, she blurted out one of the many questions swimming in her head. “Who – who are you?” She had the impression that the creature smiled as it replied “I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight.”
