So I decided to do something a little different here, this is mostly me testing writing fight scenes. Also please note that I wrote the bulk of this on my phone, so it might be a bit choppy in some spots. I did do my best to fix it up though.

My first time writing a story for Dark Souls, though this is absolutely my all time favorite series. Like, it'd be safe to say that I live and breath this series. With it's amazing and interesting lore, it's endless ways to play, and what more can I say?

Anyway this character is based on a character I made. I had sort of crafted some lore for her in my head. You'll be able to see upon reading the story. For those who are curious the armor she's using is the dancer's crown, sunless chest piece, black gauntlets, and morne leggings. Also on my character I mainly use the uchigatana, but I also incorporated the follower's sabre, and crow quills. And I usually buff with Darkmoon Blade.

With that out of the way, let's start.


Wayward Unkindled

Yarilia's pale lips settled into a thin line as she caught sight of Pontiff Sulyvahn. Gripping the hilt of her katana she slowly started walking forward.

Three sets of footsteps followed her, the Pale Shade of Londor stepped silently, gaze focused ahead seeing nothing but an enemy to cut down.

Gotthard's cape flowed behind him as he freed his twin blades. The look in his eye was intense, his desire to kill Sulyvahn was just as fierce as Yarilia's.

Anri of Astora kept his shield held up. His constant companion, Horace, was nowhere to be seen, but still he persisted in his quest. The moment the man ahead of him fell he could finally go after Aldrich. His helmed head turned to look at the woman leading them.

Her light blue hair was choppy and dirty, her skin a pale white, common to the people native to the Boreal valley. Her white and blue sunless armor glimmered in the moonlight, her black gauntlets and leggings meshing well with the armor.

Fingering the blue veil of the dancer's crown Yarilia stifled the sob that threatened to escape her throat. It had been years since they last saw each other. Sighing resolutely she slipped the helm on. Despite her absence, a part of her sister still traveled with her.

"Sulyvahn!" Yarilia's voice cried out. "Draw your blades and face me!" The young woman loudly challenged. "You will find your end at the tip of my sword!" She promised, pointing her katana at the tyrant who had butchered and enslaved her kin.

Long ago Sulyvahn gained political power and influence, with his followers he slaughtered the royal family and named himself Pontiff. The only surviving members were the Dancer and her younger sister, Yarilia.

Of course Yarilia was not her birth name, her true name was forgotten to all but her older sister. Her sister, once a princess, then a dancer, now a warrior under the Pontiff's thumb. For that and many other crimes Yarilia would cut Sulyvahn down.

The man in question turned his dark gaze on the four warriors who dared to enter his domain. "Who stands before me?" His deep voice demanded.

Yarilia stepped forward. "I am called Yarilia, I am the youngest princess of the royal family you murdered." Her steps sounded quietly as she continued walking. "I am the woman who will kill you!"

The Pontiff didn't speak at first, obviously processing the young woman's claim. After a moment he chuckled quietly. "I always knew that one had escaped. I never bothered searching as I figured you would be smart enough to stay away. It seems that I was wrong."

Blades of flame and magic were drawn. "Come at me, little wayward princess. I shall reunite you with your dearly departed mother and father." His deep dark tone promised a grisly end.

Yarilia growled at the mention of her slaughtered parents before breaking into a sprint. Sword drawn high, a wordless scream tearing from her throat.

Black Hand Gotthard, the pale shade, and Anri all followed suit, weapons drawn. Once Yarilia was in range the Pontiff leapt into the air and met her blade with his massive swords.

"Argh!" The Pontiff growled as he stepped back and slashed at the small woman. Seeing the flaming sword coming for her head Yarilia ducked and rolled to the side, slashing at his exposed flank. The large man roared and smacked her helmed head with his sword's pommel.

Anri cried out in anger at seeing his comrades struck. Continuing his charge his sword flew forward, stabbing the man in front of him as Gotthard's blade slashed Sulyvahn's front.

Turning his attention from the reeling woman, Sulyvahn lashed out. Hacking at Anri's shield with his sword of judgment, before slashing with the other one at Gotthard who leapt away.

The Pale Shade of Londor, taking advantage of Sulyvahn's divided attention jumped into the fray. Quietly he stabbed the larger man in the back before slipping away.

The three warriors backed off, to observe the Pontiff's movements with excessive caution. Picking herself back up Yarilia breathed a frustrated growl at the large figure before sheathing her uchigatana and darting forward.

Hearing her charge the Pontiff turned his full attention to her, causing the three men to renew their assault as well. Rearing back he swung one massive sword at his nearest opponent, who happened to be Yarilia.

Gripping the hilt of her sword Yarilia stood her ground and drew steel. Deflecting the sword of Profanged Flame with her thin curved blade Yarilia smirked at her surprised foe's expression before running him through with her uchigatana.

Planting her boot against his shoulder she slid her katana out of his chest and watched him fall to his knees. Bringing her sword over her head, the hornet ring on her finger gleamed as she brought it down.

Yarilia silently watched his body crumple to the floor with a wet thud. Satisfied at seeing his lifeless corpse she turned to look at her allies before offering a thankful nod. Turning away she flicked the blood off her sword and sheathed it.

Her revenge was complete, but her duty was not. As an Unkindled it was expected of her to slay the remaining Lords of Cinder, and link the fire in their place.

"Now if only I could find my sister." Yarilia muttered to herself as she stepped outside. Looking up at the dark palace she frowned pensively.

She had seen Vordt at Lothric, her sister's most loyal knight. But no sign of the fabled Dancer who was said to never be far from her knight. "Where are you, dear sister?" Yarilia asked not for the first time since she started her journey to link the flame. When no answer was offered she turned her gaze up to look at the hanging moon.

Sparing a glance over her shoulder her ocean colored eyes caught the retreating forms of Gotthard and the pale shade. Anri was the only one who remained, sitting at the Bonfire that had replaced the Pontiff's fading corpse.

When the time came they would fight alongside each other once more. But for now they would part ways, Yarilia would clear the path. Up in the darkened Anor Londo Aldrich awaited her arrival.


If people are interested I might write more for this character, but who knows? Anyway I hope everyone enjoyed this, please be sure to drop a review to let me know what you enjoyed or didn't enjoy. Feedback is key to improving, and I aim to improve my writing.