Hello everyone! Mend1cant Bias here with a Dark Souls/GOT crossover. Gonna try to be original with the group I'm bringing in, The Kingdom of Irithyll and its sorcerous ruler, Pontiff Sulyvahn. Irithyll will be situated in a fairly familiar setting as to their homeland. I will be adding a short list of creatures under the control of the mighty Pontiff (the people of Westeros are definitely gonna mistake the Irithyllian people as White Walkers especially with that pale skin). The Dark Sign will not be present, their mortality will be a precious commodity. The Outrider Knights, Vordt and the Dancer are probably the most super human-like beings. I do plan on making a polar opposite of this crossover, maybe with Wolnir involved. Reviews are always nice, since they help shine light for some improvements. Enjoy!


Prologue

The Age of Fire has ended. The lords of Cinder returned to their thrones by the intervention of a blessed, unkindled Ash who answered the bell's toll.

Ludleth of Courland, a little lord amongst the others, who rekindled the flame in his world. A man of little importance, but died a colossus, all that resides is his semblance to the Dark Soul.

The Abyss Watchers, Undead Legion of Farron who battled against any blight of the abyss that popped up, purging entire kingdoms until the old evil was expunged and cleansed, these warriors and upstart followers took up the Oath of the Wolf; a late reminder to a knight of Sunlord Gwynn.

Yhorm, fair ruler of the Profaned Capital, a giant who devoted his efforts to a people who despised and mocked him. Serving as both their weighty blade and stone hard shield, crushing enemies that sought to conquer the Capital; a true leader whose hardship was for nought.

Aldrich, Saint of the Deep, Devourer of Gods, a true horror whose only purpose as lord was his gift of power from consumption. This monstrosity dreamed of deep seas and dark oceans, his quest for the consumption of gods in order to absorb their essence of power, nearly brought chaos of untold magnitudes.

Prince Lothric, Younger prince of the Lothric Bloodline, Twin Prince. He, along with Prince Lorian, the eldest, wished to escape their duties as lords of Cinder, seeking to bring an end of linkage to the flame. Prince Lothric and Prince Lorian, both blessed in sharing the blood of ancient lords and divine entities. Rulers of a kingdom that surrounded itself in the divine belief of Dragons and the linkage of the flame.

The world as it is, lies in ruin. The fire fades as everything falls apart, from the collection of ruined civilizations of the past, stray and aging demons from a bygone age, hollows flooding every corner of the world; devoid of any semblance of humanity within. The Abyss stirs, creeping through every crevice, knowing its time has come to claim the surface world and bring an age of the deep.

The Unkindled Ash, along with faithful companions who had their own duty, brought the lords back; as cinders. With all lords back and with the help of the ever dutiful Firekeeper, they made it to World's End. There, the Ashen one battled the amalgamation of lords, winning in triumph over the entity of fire. But instead of rekindling the flame, The Ashen One let it fade, his Firekeeper respecting her lord's wish. The flame grew too weak from the constant kindling of the ages, its fire growing smaller from each consumption of the soul; making it burnout too quickly. And so it was, the Age of Fire ends, bringing upon an Age of Dark. But Cinders still remain, one day becoming fire once again...

This story, though, has just begun. Planetos, a world consisting of a couple of known continental bodies. Westeros, a land of seven kingdoms, all subjected to the King of the Iron Throne. These kingdoms are under the rule of a Great House, a noble family for each of the kingdoms. These include House Tully of Riverrun and by extension the Riverlands, House Tyrell of Highgarden and the Reach, House Greyjoy of Pyke and the Iron Islands, House Martell of Sunspear and Dorne, House Arryn of the Eyrie and the Vale, House Baratheon of Storm's End and the Stormlands, House Lannister of Casterly Rock and the Westerlands, House Stark of Winterfell and the North; where the cold runs deep. There was another house, House Targaryen of Dragonstone and the Seven Kingdoms. A house of dragon tamers, who originated from Valyria, a land located in the eastern continent of Essos where other dragon lord families prospered, an apocalyptic event brought an end to most of their civilization. Only a handful of Targaryen members survived and would later conquer Westeros with a small army and their handful of dragons.

This rule lasted for centuries, eventually ending during Robert's Rebellion. Where Aerys the second, the Mad King, died along with his son, Rhaegar. The rest of his children fled to the east, consolidating and maintaining whatever power they held. Robert Baratheon serves as the new King to the Iron Throne, leading the kingdoms currently and living his own personal life of recklessness. But the years of the kingdoms and the rest of planetos are numbered, winter is coming and bringing a fury of dark beings hellbent on submerging the world in eternal darkness. While in the North, an ancient civilization stirs, waking up after millenia of ruin. Bringing new found magic and power that can rival or even triumph that of Valyria, ancient souls sensing the cold stirs of ice and snow and their lord, Pontiff Sulyvhan seeks claim these kingdoms for his own. Let the frost of the frozen Boreal Valley creep through the decadence land and let a new age of lords arise for the taking.

Sea Dragon Point, Northwest of Winterfell…

Sea Dragon Point, a rather large, forested peninsula that has a plentiful supply of lumber and other natural resources. Nearby are the Wolfswoods, a forest in the North controlled by House Glover of Deepwood Motte, further north is Bear Island, an island that serves as home to House Mormont; vassals to House Stark. The Peninsula is faced from all three sides by the cold aquatic body of the Sunset Sea. Northern cold breezes flow down to the lands nearby, leaving layers of light snow and frost.

In one of the many forested parts of the peninsula were three trappers from House Glover, wearing thick cover of furs and carrying bows, daggers and sacks. The group has been hunting there for three days now, hunting and foraging for food to bring back for the coming winter. Salmon, otters and seals run plentiful in these lands, enough to make a living and then some; clams are also foraged into sacks. The group has been combing the peninsula from side to side, finally reaching upward to the middle of the land. Upon transversing extreme amounts of brush and treelines, the group witnessed in utter belief as a unmarked valley lay in the center of the land, though that wasn't the cause to their directed attention, for in the valley lay a city half the size of King's Landing. Snow lightly drifted around the city and its surrounding area, a silvery white, glowing aura shined above the snow dusted city, dazzling the three men with its heavenly beauty. The only visible entrance to the city came in the form of a single bridge, three noticeable features of the city were a large castle erected high up, a very prominent cathedral in the middle of the city and another structure to the right upon a giant mountain cliffside.

"By the gods new and old! Look at the size of those buildings!" one hunter spoke, sketching their findings with a piece of charcoal and a rough piece of deer skin, eyes scanning across the vast city and back to the improvised canvas.

"Where and when did this just appear!? This city wasn't marked on the maps!" another spoke, checking the group's roughed up, map charts.

"Who cares! Maybe this is one of those ancient strongholds of the First Men. We'd be making a lifelong fortune if there's treasure in there!" The third hunter spoke in glee, eyes focused on the bridge leading into the open archway of the city.

"Never mind that! You oaf! We need to bring this attention to Lord Glover immediately, let him deal with this mystery" the first hunter spoke, wrapping up his drawing and stuffing it in his baggage. "We'd be placing ourselves in danger if we went scouring away in there, could be wildlings roaming in there"

"Wildlings!? Like a bunch of savages could actually make it this far south without being gutted alive, but I'll give you that, it's too mysterious to barge into; the very air surrounding the city seems off" and with that they left, intent on informing their lord, not noticing the figure watching from above in the trees. Leaping down, a tall, silver armored figure landed where the three men once were; staring out at the wondrous city. With its stake raised in hand, the being slammed it into the ground, a glowing orb of ethereal fire appearing above the top of the stake. Off in the distance in the city, a number of faint orange glows appeared, signaling in response to the armored being, and so with a satisfied nod to itself, the figure ran off towards the city; leaving behind a torch jammed into the lightly snow-covered ground. Its flame stayed alight in the cold, one of many left around the outer perimeter of the city's boundary.

As the figure hurried past the bridge, crossing the magical barriers that deter the unwelcomed, only to be greeted by a patrol of silver-armored knights, all wielding magically infused blades of frost; their very presence lowered the surrounding area of temperature. One of the knights upfront, presumably the leader, spoke with high authority, "State your findings witch. The whole of the city is under high alert and the Pontiff is just being awakened. Our current location has somewhat changed but has remained in some similarities, you'd do best to have brought some info"

"Indeed, honorable Outrider knights of Sulyvahn. On my patrol and mapping of the outer perimeters of Irithyll, I came across a group of men surveying our city, they speak the same tongue as us; though in an unrecognizable accent. They did also speak of reporting this to their lord, presumably near our region" the fire stake witch reported, hiding a sneer behind her helm.

"Very well, proceed with this information to Pontiff Sulyvahn, he will be most interested with this development of current events. We've been ordered to lead a group of builders to find and construct on a nearby coast, to expand our control and knowledge of this land" The lead knight spoke out, strolling off with his retinue of fellow Outrider knights.

Irithyll, a kingdom from a bygone age, lost to time and the causality of ambition. The legendary lake-borne cathedral city within the frozen Boreal Valley is constantly bathed in the eternal moonlit twilight casted by the ancient Anor Londo ruins. The city in its current state is built upon the image of one individual, Pontiff Sulyvahn, a native from the long since painted lands. A sorcerer wielding spells of frost, a man tainted by the Profaned Flame after following his ambition of further learning different spells. The Profaned Flame corrupts the hearts of men, inspiring terrible ambition and cruelty, to an extent of becoming a twisted monster.

"Where have you gone sweet child? It's cold outside. It's awfully cold. Where have you run off to? I'm here sweet child, right here. You're cold and you've no place to go. You're mine sweet child, all mine. So run home, sweet child. Run home. You know you've no place to go."

Cold, Icy, blue eyes opened widely. A figure standing from its throne situated in the middle of a cathedral, rows upon rows of empty Ashwood pews surrounding him. A surge of phantom pain wracks the figure as he stumbles upon his knees. Images, emotions, and the pain flood through his core, allowing a story to unfold in his mind.

Swords clash, blood spilled upon holy grounds. An ashen figure wielding a simple broadsword and buckler shield. He can feel it…. The amount of souls his vessel contains, granting him great strength, greater than his own!

He wears the Elite armor of Astoran Knights. Yet, the way he fights, the unconventional tactics and underhanded use of poison knives and firebombs is of no Knight of Astora. The ashen figure moved with grace and purpose, a purpose to see him slain and defeated. The ashen figure dodged and weaved around his blows, parrying off any that got close to striking ashen flesh.

Cold, blue eyes glaring at the hollow helm of his adversary, holding his ground and refusing to relent to this usurper. With newfound energy, he rushed forwards at great speed, seeking to end this foolish Ashened One with a single strike. But fate had other plans, for the Ashened One, replacing his buckler shield for a talisman; had casted a miracle of emitted force. The miracle projectile hit with the force of a heavy warhammer, sending the cold eyed lord sprawling on the ground.

Wracked with pain and exhaustion, muscles failing him, he could only watch as the Ashen One stood over him. Gazing down with no sense of morality or sympathy for the heart corrupted Pontiff; before plunging his blade down on head.

And with that, Pontiff Sulyvhan woke up.


And there we have it. The first chapter in this new story, I do plan on having another story like this. Although it will feature a different character from DS3, and take place in a different region, preferably Essos. I want to thank anyone willing to take the time to read this and I can only hope you enjoy this starting chapter.