In the graveyard of Stormveil Castle, before the throne room. Guests must make their way through the graveyard to see the lord of the castle, to know which famed persons preceded the lord, and to understand the burden of being the lord of such a historic place. An Exile Soldier enters the graveyard, addressing himself to Godrick, the current lord of the castle, in silhouette. Godrick's attention is on a tree, whose crown is not shown yet. Exile Soldier: Sir, the gate has been breached. Godrick: Thank you, keep me informed.
Exile Soldier: ... Exile Soldier: If you show yourself to the troops, their souls may be lightened.
Godrick turns to the soldier. Godrick: Is that true now? Tell me, what of me would hearten them? Godrick: The gold of my robes? The shine of my crown?
One of Godrick's hands shoots out.
The hand is reaching for the soldier's face. The soldier is unnerved. Godrick: Well?
Godrick: Double for the defense, and double that on success. That should satisfy enough. Godrick: You are dismissed. The soldier promptly leaves.
Godrick faces the tree.
Pierced by the tree is the corpse of a mighty dragon, same as Agheel seen before. Godrick: Mighty Dragon, thou'rt a trueborn heir.
Godrick: Never have you relied on dodgy help, and unloyal hands... Godrick: You won, by your own strength, and your own strength onely.
Godrick: These are the resorts Marika has left for us... Godrick: To become monsters yet, is our fate.
Godrick: Lend me thy strength, o kindred. Godrick: Deliver me unto greater heights. Godrick: ...So I may return to my home, bathed in rays of gold.
At the gate, in the outer courtyard. The phalanx has split into distinct columns, battling the defenders. The Elder Lion is slain, its flesh punched with holes; beneath it are a great number of slain knights.
The knights press forward, cutting and stabbing through Exile Soldiers. Gaer and the Tarnished also move onward in the melee.
The feet of Banished Knights, on the walls above.
The Banished Knights crowd the walls above and guard the staircase to the inner courtyard.
Gaer: Giant things... Blaidd: Scarecrows of men. Blaidd: Do you think they'll only gawk and stare?
A captain of the Banished Knights calls out. He pounds the end of his halberd on the ground. Captain Banished Knight: Hah!
All of the Banished Knights call out. Banished Knights: HAH!
The knights begin pounding on the earth, some with their halberds, the others with their shields and feet.
Gaer: A kind of war-song?...
A banner on the walls, quiescent.
The wind picks up violently; the banner is ragged, live, energetic now.
Bernahl: Hold on... This glimmers unwell.
The Banished Knights: HAH!
The storm enters the courtyard. It blows against Castle Morne's knights.
The storm becomes strong enough to knock the knights over. Knight: Oh!
Bernahl: Everyone, fall back!
Banished Knights: HURRAH!
The feet of the Banished Knights tense, ready to leap.
The Banished Knights leap, far high in the air. Their bodies are contorted in various, wild ways, one with the winds. They overshadow the knights from Castle Morne. Knights: O-ohhh...
The Banished Knights bring the full weight of their bodies down, flattening the Knights from Castle Morne into piles of flesh.
Rhys and Meilyr fall back with the Tarnished. Gaer: Rhys! Meilyr! Where is Gareth?
Rhys: He intends to sow discord in the outer courtyard, above that staircase.
Gaer: Brother... I'm coming!
Back to the mess hall. On the ceiling is the Grafted Scion, clinging to the rafters. Below him is the Tarnished: Gareth, Nepheli, Reane, Morrowe, and Rogier. Gareth: What a disgusting place...
The Grafted Scion falls, making a sound as he slips down. Reane: Hmm?
Reane sees it. Reane: Gareth! Nepheli!
Nepheli steps backwards. Gareth raises his shield up.
The Grafted Scion falls upon Gareth, his swords bouncing off the shield. Gareth, notably, by the force has his legs buckled. The swords on other hands punch into the wood of the walkway. Gareth: Hnnng!
Gareth steps backwards, his legs wobbling. Nepheli runs towards him. Nepheli: Gareth!
The arms come forward to stab at them.
Nepheli, hugging Gareth, helps him bring the shield. The thrusts bounce off the shield. Nepheli and Gareth: Hrrg!
Morrowe leaps onto the Grafted Scion's back.
Morrowe's feet are wobbly. Morrowe: Uneven ground here.
Morrowe intends to cut the Grafted Scion's head with his scimitars.
The Grafted Scion rolls towards the bannisters, destroying them. Morrowe falls with it. Morrowe: Hey!
Both Morrowe and the Grafted Scion land on their feet. The Grafted Scion has broken some tables and knocked over candlesticks. The two square off.
The swords of the Scion are thrusted forward; Morrowe parries them.
The arms of the Grafted Scion and Morrowe are a whirlwind.
Reane: Sometimes I wonder how he is human.
Gareth: How do we get down there?... A foot creeps into a doorway nearby.
A crash is heard. The Tarnished look at its source.
Another grafted monstrosity appears. She is a large female with digitigrade legs (hooked legs, like dogs). Grafted to her chest are several Tarnished, their legs and arms dangling in the air. She, like the Grafted Scion, has a green shawl thrown on her shoulders; a curved greatsword hangs from her dominant sword-hand. Yes, she looks very similar to Gravelord Nito, I'm not that creative. We shall call her the Grafted Matriarch, which is disappointing, because the word "scion" has a specific meaning with actual botanical grafting.
The Grafted Matriarch reaches for Reane.
Gareth blocks with his greatshield, but the Matriarch grabs onto the ridges of the shield.
From the sheer strength in her hands, she is about to pull away Gareth's shield.
Rogier thrusts his rapier into the arm. No pain is felt.
Nepheli and Gareth try to pull the shield back. Rogier casts another spell.
A phalanx of dark-blue blades appears over Rogier's head. They fly.
The arm is cut off; Nepheli and Gareth fall backward. The Matriarch is apathetic.
The Matriarch, with her giant hands, pinches on one of the arms of the Tarnished attached to her. The Tarnished moans weakly.
She pulls the arm off; the Tarnished weeps, helplessly.
She puts the arm into the stump of her prior arm; the arm and the stump glow dully with grace, sticking together.
Reane points downward to the second storey. Reane: Hey! Down here!
She points to a pile of human-shaped sacks, which contain living but immobile Tarnished.
The Tarnished - our Tarnished - jump onto the pile, which absorbs their fall.
The Tarnished look upward at the Matriarch, who does not seem eager to follow them.
Morrowe steps backwards to them. Morrowe: I'm not one to underrate myself, but more limbs seem better than two.
The Grafted Scion rolls to their rear, and gestures to cut them from behind.
Gareth turns, and bashes the Scion against the wall.
Gareth: Alright, run! Give ourselves space! Everyone runs.
Morrowe runs towards the immense portrait of Godfrey, and makes a hard left.
Morrowe bumps into a fleshy mass.
Another grafted monstrosity. It is a tower of female breasts, connected by a patchwork of torsos; it moves on a pair of hands and legs. Only one mighty arm is grafted onto the tower, wielding a colossal sword.
A single male face peeks out from between the breasts. Let us call him, the Grafted Scioness.
Morrowe, who hitherto has never met a bosom he did not like, is stunned, and struggling to find words. His dress is stained. Morrowe: H-h- W-w-
Nepheli shoves him aside.
Nepheli cuts the Grafted Scioness up with her axes.
Fluid spills from the cut breasts.
The sword is swung toward Nepheli.
Gareth blocks the sword and pushes the Scioness to his side.
The Scioness tries to push himself off the ground with his many arms. The Tarnished run to the exit.
The Tarnished look out of the exit, seeing the entire outer courtyard is filled with Exile Soldiers, waiting for the army of Tarnished. Warhawks dance in the sky.
Gareth: Oh no.
The Grafted Scion charges forward, using the Golden Beast Crest Shield as a ram.
The Tarnished, with no choice, run out of the exit and into the courtyard.
The Grafted Scion destroys the arch of the exit, entering into the courtyard.
The Exile Soldiers and the Grafted Scion behold one another.
The Exile Soldiers do not notice the Tarnished, because of the Grafted Scion. The Tarnished run by them. Exile Soldier: Holy -! (Other) Exile Soldier: One of Godrick's monsters.
The Grafted Scion rushes past them, knocking them down. Exile Soldiers: Oof!
The Grafted Scion lunges forward. Gareth pushes an Exile Soldier before him, such that the swords are caught in the soldier.
Gareth: Morrowe. Nepheli. Do me a favor. Gareth: Go south.
Nepheli: Through the whole courtyard? That's suicide!
Gareth forces a flamethrower to turn around. He ignites it.
Gareth sets the Grafted Scion on fire, lighting it like a tree.
Gareth: I will create the distraction. Please, relieve the coming army from the defenders down the staircase.
Reane: Hum... what of Rogier and I? Gareth: I don't perceive a way out. Reane: Oh, wonderful.
Gareth: Frankly, I don't see a way of anyone living. Gareth: That's why this is a favor.
Morrowe leaps over Gareth's shoulder. Morrowe: I'll suffice. Nepheli can stay here. Gareth: Hey!
Reane: I know now you don't value my life, but I propose a plan. She points to an underground cellar.
Gareth and Nepheli pull the flamethrower with them, heavy as it is. Reane and Rogier guard them with their foils against the Exile Soldiers.
Nepheli and Gareth enter the cellar, Reane and Rogier following them.
Nepheli mounts the flamethrower; Gareth stands over the flamethrower, his greatshield mounted at a slant, distributing its weight across the length of the flamethrower. Crossbow bolts are blocked by the greatshield, protecting Nepheli.
The Soldiers try to descend. The flamethrower sets them on fire.
The flamethrower rests. Gareth holds the shield in front of the flamethrower. Reane and Rogier, from the greatshield's sides, stab the invaders with their foils.
The Grafted Scion rolls the fire off of his body.
He pushes the soldiers away from the cellar, and tries to push his great bulk into the cellar.
Nepheli readies the flamethrower; Gareth lifts up the greatshield.
The flamethrower roars; the fire is blocked by the Scion's greatshield.
Reane and Rogier's foils strike the Scion's body. Scion: Ahh!
The Scion tries to bat them away, but the foils punch into his eyes and nose.
The Scion tries to back out of the cellar.
Rogier stabs through his shield-arm.
Rogier, Reane, and Gareth try to wrench the limb out.
The limb goes out, with a fountain of blood. The greatshield clatters on the ground.
The flamethrower clicks.
The Grafted Scion is lit aflame.
Gareth pushes the flashing corpse away from the flamethrower, with his greatshield.
Three hands are on the edge of the portal, behind the Scion.
It is the Matriarch. She tries to pull apart the masonry of the cellar's entrance, widening it.
She gives up, and camps around the cellar door.
Gareth: You just bought us our lives, when I couldn't save yours. Gareth: What do we do now?
Reane: We wait. And hope.
On the stairway to the outer courtyard. Exile Soldiers are manned to ballistae with flaming bolts.
Below them is the melee, of the Banished Knights fighting the Tarnished.
An Exile Soldier at his ballista, waiting for action.
Morrowe stabs him through the chest with his scimitar. Exile Soldier: Hnng!
The other Exile Soldiers turn to Morrowe.
Gaer: That's the man! Push forward!
Gaer and other Tarnished press onward to the staircase.
A Banished Knight lies in wait for them.
Gaer: You poor, stupid bastard... You unfortunate, unreasonable bastard...
Gaer cuts the Banished Knight in half. Gaer: OUT OF MY WAY!
The Tarnished battle the Exile Soldiers on the cliffs surrounding the stairs.
Gaer: Morrowe! Where is my brother? Morrowe: Hurry, hurry! You can save him yet!
Gaer: Indeed! Gaer rushes ferociously.
The gate to the inner courtyard, where Exile Soldiers have quickly replaced the dead who had prior manned the flamethrowers.
A single cut of a colossal sword from behind cuts them in half.
The Grafted Scioness appears before Gaer, its colossal sword shining in the descending sun above its pale breasts.
The Exile Soldiers outside of the cellar. Exile Soldier: Pull! The Exile Soldiers pull on ropes.
The hooks attached to the ropes are pulled back, bringing the Grafted Scion's corpse out.
The haunted face of the Grafted Matriarch hovers in the entrance.
The Grafted Matriarch's mouth opens. Matriarch: Ahh...
The Tarnished around her neck jerk around, animated with life.
Their mouths open too, a chorus of death. Tarnished: Ahhhh...
Nepheli rushes forward, chopping the heads off with her axes.
Gareth, following close behind, pushes the Matriarch backwards.
The Matriarch recovers, bringing herself up. The blood flows from the neck stumps of her Tarnished.
She pulls up an Exile Soldier.
She wrenches his head off.
She replaces one of her Tarnished's heads with the Soldier's heads. The other Exile Soldiers, predictably, run away. Exile Soldiers: Keep your distance from that she-wolf!
The Tarnished fight the Grafted Scioness. A Tarnished is cut in half under his colossal sword.
Bernahl runs up to the Scioness.
He puts himself in a stance, preparing to execute an ancient technique, the Sword Slash. Bernahl: Hoooh...
Bernahl brings his blade, the heavy Zweihander, furiously in diagonal slashes. Fluid flies.
Blaidd leaps, his blade, the Royal Greatsword, coated with frost.
Blaidd lands on one of the breasts and pierces the blade deeply into the Scioness.
Gaer charges. Gaer: HAAAAH!
Gaer plunges the Grafted Blade Greatsword into the Scioness, knocking him backwards and through the gate.
The Scioness lands on the palisades, shattering them.
The Exile Soldiers were disorganized from the scuffle in the courtyard. Exile Soldiers: The gate has been breached!
The Matriarch sets one of them aside.
Gaer: What is that thing?
The Exile Soldiers retreat. The Matriarch screams. Matriarch: Ahhh...
Gaer: Get back! The Tarnished, around the Matriarch's neck: Ahhhh!
The screams turn into a horrifying roar, shattering all wooden objects in the area. Matriarch and Tarnished: AHHHHHHH!
The palisades and flamethrowers are broken in the shockwave.
Even the wooden shed nearby is ripped apart.
The stones are pushed aside.
Tarnished and Exile Soldiers alike are caught in the wave, their ears bleeding and their bodies crumpled by the force. The ground quakes.
Gaer and the other Tarnished (that we know - yes, the storyteller's conceit) are hiding behind the gate.
The cellar is near-collapsing. Gareth: We have to get out of here.
The Tarnished are looking to escape, after the sound waves subside.
The screams subside, and the ground stops shaking.
The Matriarch looks at the gate meaningfully; the Tarnished behind the gate poke their heads through it.
Behind the Matriarch is Nepheli.
Wind swirls beneath Nepheli's feet.
Nepheli waves her axe above her ahead.
The axe catches lightning.
In a furious dance Nepheli cuts the legs of the Matriarch, toppling her over.
The Matriarch, bewildered and on her arms, tries to grope for her fallen curved greatsword.
The Tarnished cast their shadows over her.
The Matriarch is cut to pieces.
Gareth, coming out of the cellar: Gaer! Gaer: Brother! Gaer has his arms open.
They hear the earth quake. Gaer: Oh, come on now...
A view of a Troll's feet, before it leaps.
The Troll leaps over the wooden fortifications (damaged and crumbling after the Matriarch's attack), entering the courtyard. Gaer: Troll!
The image of Meilyr's cute troll, juxtaposed next to the actual Troll. Meilyr is horrified. Gaer: Give it breadth!
The Troll, with one sweep of its powerful arms, knocks several Tarnished down.
The Troll sees Gareth behind it.
The Troll runs toward Gareth, he raises his shield.
It extends an arm toward Gareth.
He deflects it with his shield.
The Troll's other arm comes for him.
Gaer: Gareth!
The Troll raises Gareth high above his head.
It brings Gareth down onto several other Tarnished, using his shield as a bludgeon.
Gareth spits blood.
Gaer rushes the Troll.
The Troll throws Gareth down, brutally knocking him into Gaer.
The Troll takes the sword off its back.
Bernahl: Space! Space!
The Troll brings the sword down; at its size, it functions more as a hammer. A number of Tarnished are squished into piles of flesh.
Nepheli plunges her axes into the Troll's toes.
The Troll winces, and brings its cut foot up.
The Troll stomps on Nepheli, with its heel.
Alexander falls on the Troll's other foot, flattening it on the floor. Meilyr is on his back. Alexander: Ho ho ho!
Other Tarnished leap on the Troll, stabbing and cutting it.
The Troll tries to raise its arm, but the Tarnished riddle holes in it.
Gaer: You ugly bastard.
Gaer raises the Grafted Blade Greatsword above his head.
With one mighty swoop, he cuts the Troll's head off.
Gaer: Close that gate! Blaidd: What about the other knights? Gaer: We need to fortify the position first.
Tarnished operate the mechanism to close the gate.
The portcullis closes, clanking on the ground.
Gaer is cradling Gareth. Gaer: Gareth... Gareth... Oh Marika...
Bernahl: We'll put Nepheli and Gareth under the shade and let them rest. Bernahl: I know some ways to staunch wounds.
Gaer can't let go of his brother. Bernahl: Gaer.
Bernahl: Be a man. Your brother was a warrior. A fine one, too.
Gaer: What consolation does that bring me? Bernahl: Gaer. Bernahl pulls Gareth from him.
Gaer is at a loss. In his mind, he's still holding his brother.
Night is approaching.
The Tarnished have set up fires and cooking stations. They have rearranged the fortifications.
Knight Captain: Whomever of my men could make it, should be here. Knight Captain: We also have the only opening, through the mess hall, covered.
D: There's a bolted door by the lift, opening from the other side. But we're not sure where it leads to.
Gaer is abstracted. D: Gaer. Gaer.
Gaer: Yes...so we're well-defended? D: Aye. So now we must discuss who will take the Great Rune from Godrick.
D: You should be exultant, Gaer. The chances of arriving here were slight. Gaer: ...
Bernahl, breaking the silence: Your brother is breathing. Nepheli, too.
Bernahl: I set aside my right to the Great Rune. D: You, really? Bernahl: Yes.
Bernahl: I came to assist the march, no more, no less. Blaidd: What an altruist. Bernahl: ...
D: I, likewise. I'm not interested in politicking. D: I only desire the Golden Order to be whole.
Blaidd: I have no need for it either. I only wanted diversion in Limgrave. Rogier: Blood and guts, Blaidd... Blaidd: I know, I know.
Rogier: I won't handle it. Most other Tarnished too. Rogier: Morrowe? Rhys?
Morrowe: Ehhh. I want to travel. Seems the Great Rune obliges one to all the Greater Will shit. Rhys: ...
Rhys: I don't deserve it. I lay aside my right. Rogier: You already have one. Rhys: One is more than enough.
Rhys: Meilyr? D: That wretch? Rhys: He's proven himself more than I.
Meilyr: Can you eat it? All: ...
Knight Captain: I won't renounce my right. Bernahl: You have right aplenty.
Knight Captain: And you, Gaer, will fish for it too. Gaer: ...Yes.
Bernahl: It's a shame. Nepheli would want a go as well. Henricus: Yeah...damn rotten shame.
Henricus: Shit! Blaidd: What's got you so worked up?
Gaer: I say...when the moon is at its highest point, the contenders depart for Godrick's chambers. Gaer: I don't think that goose will move. And he can't move far, into Liurnia from now to there.
Gaer: He can barely defend himself, is what I've heard. Gaer: He'll probably submit.
Gaer: We'll decide who is best for the rune, then. Gaer shakes the Knight Captain's hand. Knight Captain: Aye, sounds fair to me.
Gaer: Alright, let's rest. Stay vigilant, but make merry. Gaer: It's been a long day.
The Tarnished eating, resting, drinking after the worst twenty-four hours imaginable. The Misbegotten are serving them.
Meilyr: Hey! More wine! Rhys: Idiot. There are soldiers prowling around. One cup is enough.
Meilyr: Rhys. Why did you give up Godrick's rune? Rhys: ...
Rhys: Runes aren't by right, they're by burden. Meilyr: What does that mean? Rhys: You wouldn't understand.
Meilyr: Then you're too burdened by this chicken? Rhys: Beggar. Rhys slaps his hand.
Meilyr roars to whoever will hear him. Meilyr: Hey, come on now! Another cup of wine won't hurt a fellow!
Rogier: Really, you only came to war? Is that's all in your blood? Bernahl: Abouts.
Bernahl: And yet, why did you come? Rogier: ...I have business in the basement of Stormveil. I might need some help.
Bernahl: Is that why you favor one side? Rogier: Aye. Bernahl: Well, you won't get help from me.
Rogier: You're heading north? Bernahl: ...
Bernahl: Why don't you ask D for help? He seems a passionate chap. Rogier: ...
Bernahl: The nice thing about this ending is, we won't be watching the other's peeves all day.
Morrowe, his arms around two Tarnished. Morrowe: And this brute, had three, four, five arms on him! Morrowe: He had more hands than fingers I could count on!
Reane walks by, with food. Reane: Even in the midst of foes you don't change your ways.
Morrowe: Alright girls, we'll talk again. Morrowe: Scat, scurry, scrounge away.
Reane: I'm your favorite wench? Morrowe: Do you take everything negatively? Sit down.
Morrowe: Reane, why do you wear that helm? Reane: ... Reane: They disfigured my face.
Reane: You're not trying to get a peck out of me, are you? Morrowe: Nay.
Morrowe: What do you aspire to? Reane: Why are you so philosophical of a sudden? Reane: I have none. Not after they broke my body.
Morrowe: Reane, you're a friend to me. You're more than a woman. Reane is both disgusted by his phrasing and also touched. Reane: ...
Morrowe: Friends become lovers? Reane: I would beat the shit out of you.
Reane douses a nearby fire. Reane: Rhys. Come. Morrowe: What do we need that bore for?
Rhys: I? Reane: Any other?
Reane: Come, let's look at the stars.
The Tarnished are sprawled over the lawn. Meilyr joins them. Rhys: I forgot why I abided you all. Reane: For Ranni the Witch? Rhys: Aye. Or the moon. Reane: You want to witness the moon? Well, there it is. Rhys: ...No. Something more. Morrowe: Moonfucker.
Rhys, pointing at the stars: Those there, are in the shape of a wolf.
Rhys: Those, a pauldron.
An indistinct mass. Rhys: Umm... Meilyr: Wattle. Morrowe: Shit.
The Tarnished are resting. Some are keeping night watch.
Knight: Sir, there may be movement at the gate. Knight Captain: I'll go with you.
Gaer: ...
Gaer sneaks off.
Bernahl notices him.
Gaer ascends the staircase, to Stormveil's throne room.
He passes the now-abandoned fortifications.
The full view to the entrance to the throne room. Statues of guardians of the Erdtree line it; a statue of a hawk is over the portal, an emblem of the Stormveil lords.
Gaer enters the portal into the graveyard, with a view of the graves and the dragon.
Gaer looks upon Godrick, dark in the night. He is curious by this figure, obsessed with the dragon. Gaer: Godrick? He's bigger than I thought.
Godrick: You, knight. Gaer: ! Godrick: Come down.
Godrick: I have given the soldiers their final pay. There is no one defending me.
Godrick: Come down. These conditions satisfy, right?
Gaer comes down the stairs, but does not close the gap to Godrick, as he is wary. Godrick does not turn to him. He continues to look at the dragon. Gaer: Godrick. Give up your rune. We have cornered you.
Godrick: You simple fool. The rune is in my flesh. I'd have to give up my life.
Gaer: Is that what we're resorted to?
Godrick: I want to ask you: why did you come alone?
Godrick: Even if I were a feeble old man, out of caution, you would bring able men.
Godrick: And then, only madmen wouldn't thirst for a rune of the Elden Ring.
Gaer: ...A harsh battle was fought to get here. I would like to end this war peacefully, if possible.
Godrick: Hmm. Forgive me if I'm suspicious, but I once served Leyndell. Godrick: I like to scour every possibility, when I'm free.
Godrick: You say you want the war to end peacefully, and quickly. Fair reason.
Godrick: But this is no ordinary war.
Godrick: I am a slight thing, yes, but I have seared into my flesh a piece of the Elden Ring. A pillar of our world.
Godrick: By no fault of mine. Godrick: I am of Marika's descent.
Godrick: Do you know what the Golden Order is? Gaer: The natural laws of the world.
Godrick: In a sense. Who vouchsafes those laws? Gaer: ... Godrick: It's natural not to question them.
Godrick: People as I. Godrick: The demigods.
Gaer: ! Godrick: Hence, "Order".
Godrick: The goddess, my ancestor, thought the Elden Ring would be most secure in her progeny. Godrick: For they, had the most to lose.
Godrick: And so, I have it, by no will of my own.
Godrick: ...I am a coward, as others tell me. Godrick: When General Radahn came, I hid. I had no truck with that beast of a man. Godrick: Malenia, that symbol of rot, I bowed down to. I couldn't stand her mocking honor, but I know the value of my life.
Godrick: But those were demigods. My brothers and sisters. Or uncles and aunties. However you look at it.
Godrick: And so, back to my supposing:
Godrick: You hunger for gold.
Godrick: I've known all my life. I've seen, all my life, the hungry eyes of others.
Godrick: They want gold. They want a lord's seat. They want to be admired.
Godrick: Especially by the Erdtree, and Marika. Who love most.
Godrick: It is only human to be so thirsty. To crave, in the desert, a waterfall.
Godrick: But I tell you, there's nothing glorious in this kind of gold.
Godrick: Tortured all my life... Burdened all my life...
Godrick: Look what I did to my body, to house this rune!
Godrick: I'm not so dull to think: my body over my honor.
Godrick: But that honor costs more than anyone can imagine.
Gaer: Godrick. There can be no more words. Let us fight.
Godrick scowls, and grits his teeth.
The hands beneath his robe move.
The robe is cast aside, by his grafted hands.
Godrick puts his hand on his axe. Godrick: Lowly Tarnished, playing as a lord.
Godrick: Come vast distances to secure your vanity.
Godrick: Thou'rt unfit even to graft.
Godrick: I COMMAND THEE, KNEEL! He pounds the earth with his axe, cracking the ground beneath, in a war-cry. Godrick: Goldenless Tarnished!
In the courtyard. The torches are dim. All the Tarnished, including Reane, Morrowe, Rhys and Meilyr, are sleeping.
Gareth, resting. His hand stirs.
Gareth: G...g...
Gareth wakes up, startled. Gareth: Gaer!
Nepheli pats him on the shoulder. Nepheli: Shh! Everyone is sleeping.
Gareth: Where's my brother? Nepheli: He's down there, somewhere.
Gareth: Nepheli, I know he's not. I need to find him. Nepheli: Gareth...
Gareth tries to pick himself up, but falters; pain comes from his wounds. Gareth: Ah! Nepheli: You're in no state to move! Lay and rest.
Gareth: Is Godrick defeated? Nepheli: No. ...I trow not. I only woke up a little before you.
Gareth: Then Gaer is fighting him. That's the boy he is.
Nepheli: Then he's fine. Others are with him.
Nepheli: Your brother is a warrior, Gareth. Gareth: All the more reason for me to go to him.
An image, of Gareth and Gaer fighting somewhere else. Gareth: We always fought our best, the other by his side.
Nepheli: That's sweet, but you should rest.
Nepheli: Come on now, if you brothers are so hip-to-hip, then your brother wouldn't go without you. Gareth: ...
A view of a Tarnished on patrol. Nepheli, in card: Nothing stirs this night. Let it go.
The Tarnished hears a horse grunting.
He turns around.
One of the Night's Cavalry, on their famous funeral horses. He is immense, many times bigger than the Tarnished - as tall as the Tree Sentinel - and his horse, despite its size, magically and absurdly is standing on a palisade.
Tarnished: In-in-
The Night's Cavalry brings his flail down on the Tarnished, crushing him.
Tarnished wake up, and rush to the cry for help. Tarnished: What is going on? Where -
Tarnished: Ohh... The Night's Cavalry slams its flail into the faces of Tarnished.
Leaping over the gate, again with fantastical strength, another Night's Cavalry slams his halberd into the sleeping Tarnished.
Tarnished: It's an ambush!
The Knight Captain comes rushing to the scene. Knight Captain: Where's Gaer?!
Gareth is horrified, hearing all the cries of "Gaer!"
Gareth: I have - Nepheli: I'm going with you then.
Gareth: Nepheli, you're needed here. Nepheli: I'm needed by the side of whomever seeks the Great Rune.
Nepheli: ...I'm in no state to bear it myself.
Henricus, from the shadows. Henricus: Is that a fact, Nepheli?
Nepheli is surprised. Henricus: Then you should know: your worth is expired.
Henricus: Your father renounces you.
Henricus uses a finger and draws a circle. He vanishes in golden light. Henricus: What a tired game this all was.
Nepheli: ... Gareth: I don't understand, at all.
Nepheli: There's nothing to understand. Nepheli: We must be by Gaer's side.
The Night's Calvary lifts up his halberd.
He brings it down on the Knight Captain's shield. The wrist snaps, at a near-right angle. Knight Captain: Ahh!
The Knight Captain swings wildly with his sword-arm. Knight Captain: These black riders...are fantastically strong!
The horse of the other Night's Cavalry kicks the Knight Captain.
He flies through the air, thrown against the soldier's barracks. He destroys some of the wood. Rhys watches him. Rhys: Poor fellow.
Rhys lunges, his staff brimming with light: a dark-blue lance shoots forward.
The horse of the Night's Cavalry jumps in the air, dodging the lance.
The horse jumps again in the air; the black knight and his horse are gigantic and fearsome in the night, shrouding the moon. Rhys: Come on, this strains belief...
The horse intends to step on Rhys.
Bernahl and Blaidd rush in to support him.
All three bring their blades up, stabbing the horse's underbelly. The horse squirms in the air.
All three: Hrrr... They are tipping over.
They fall, bringing the horse and its rider down.
The horse and the rider are silent on the ground, as if dead.
Then, the horse's legs twist into right angles.
The horse kicks, flipping itself in the air in three-quarters of a circle before landing on its feet.
Rhys: This is the stuff nightmares are made out of. The other Night's Cavalry is charging right at them.
Meilyr pokes his head out behind him, also sitting on the saddle.
Meilyr mischievously puts his hands over the Night's Cavalry's helm.
The Night's Cavalry steers wrong, and careens toward the wall.
Instead of smashing into the wall, the horse walks up along the wall.
Meilyr holds onto dear life the rider's helm, seeing how far the ground is below him. Meilyr: I miscalculated! Meilyr: Oh, mercy on me!
The Night's Cavalry on the ground deflects sword swings with his hand, showing his strength.
His flail comes down. Heads fly off.
The rider bounds for Corhyn.
Corhyn throws his Discus of Light.
The rider shrugs it off.
The Prophet puts himself before Corhyn. Corhyn: What are you going? You'll be -
Sparks come out of the Prophet's hands.
Fire explodes out of the Prophet's hands.
The rider is set aflame. He tramples the Prophet, but sways and avoids Corhyn.
The shadow of fire dances before Corhyn's blindfold. Corhyn: You...the fire of ruin...
The Samurai is in the fiery rider's path.
Her Uchigatana has a brilliant gold; the Erdtree shines.
She brings it down, slicing the horse's head in half.
The halves of the horse's head flaps in the wind.
The flames come off of the rider, not before burning his cape into cinders.
He puts each of his hands onto the horse's face(s).
He gently brings them back together.
Istvan: These are demons. Yura: Untrue. Fellow, do you have any more fire on you?
The Prophet looks at Corhyn, fearful he shamed himself. But Corhyn is lost in his own daze.
The rider comes charging in again.
The Prophet throws a ball of fire into his face, knocking his helm off.
The face, on fire, is shown to be disfigured, inhuman.
The rider and his horse crashes into a wall.
Alexander and Blaidd grapple the horse's hind-legs. The horse tries to kick them off, and stand.
Alexander: Ha ha! He raises a fist.
He brings it down into the horse's leg, breaking it.
The horse whinneys in pain. Blaidd brings his greatsword up.
He chops off the horse's head.
The Tarnished face off against the rider, who is picking himself up.
The other Night's Cavalry, with Meilyr, riding in the sky, with the moon and the Erdtree as backdrops. Meilyr: Aha! Ha ha ha!
Gaer and Godrick are dueling. The Grafted Blade Greatsword clashes with Godrick's golden axe.
Godrick rolls around Gaer; the rapidity of the attack surprises him.
Godrick swings at him.
Gaer swings back, to defend himself, but a hand of Godrick's blocks it, by hooking it onto an ax.
Godrick chops down. Gaer uses his left arm to defend himself. The armor of the arm is destroyed.
And yet, Gaer's arm holds, only bleeding. Godrick: You are made of the stuff of champions. Godrick: And that is why, this is so tragic.
Godrick cuts his arm off. Gaer: AHH!
The pieces of the arm fall off, leaving bloodstains on the ground.
Godrick is tall before Gaer. He brings his axe up, head downward. Godrick: I said...
He pounds the ax head on the ground. Godrick: KNEEL!
Gaer, thinking: And my sword-arm...is weakened...
Gaer swings randomly before Godrick, prompting him to back away. Godrick: Come on now, fellow, this is unseemly...
Gaer swings one way, drawing Godrick's eyes one way.
With all his strength, Gaer swings away mid-swing and brings the sword brutally down on Godrick's left arm. Godrick: Ahh!
His remaining hand trembling, Gaer can't seem to finish the blow. Godrick attempts to beat him with the flat of his ax head.
Using the strength of his body, rather than slashing, he rams the sword through, using less of the muscles in the arm and the shoulder and more of his legs.
Godrick's arm falls. Gaer: You see that? You flinched - something no true warrior would do. Gaer: I showed you the worth of endless battles I travailed. Gaer: Kneel to me!
Something shines before Gaer's eyes.
From the stump in Godrick's arm, he can see the shard of the Elden Ring. Gaer: Gold...
Narrator: Feelings he never felt, and concepts he never thought, flooded into Gaer's mind: Narrator: The power to protect. The power to give. Limitless, and absolute.
Narrator: Such a brilliant gold can lighten hope in man's heart again, make him believe fool dreams once more... Narrator: ...lighting the fire of his soul... Narrator: ...and drive him mad.
Narrator: And Gaer, was not alone in his feeling. Godrick motions to the dragon, holding the stump of his arm, a fountain of blood.
Godrick: Truest of dragons, Godrick: you, who are called watered down from your ancestors, are feared still. Godrick: You don't shame your bloodline, after all this time.
Godrick: Do you see this, spilling from my wound? Godrick: Runes, the Erdtree's grace put into word. Into law. Godrick: Who does not aspire to live, again?
Godrick: Come, to me.
The dragon's pupils return, hungry for gold.
Godrick pushes the stump into the dragon's neck.
The neck and the arm twist, merging together.
Godrick raises the dragon's head and plumes the sky with fire and smoke. Godrick: FOREFATHERS, ONE AND ALL! Godrick: BEAR WITNESS!
Godrick: Your noble blood courses strong today!
Godrick thrusts the dragon head forward. Gaer blocks.
The strength of the blow, and the weakness of Gaer's hand, which had been burnt by Agheel a day ago, makes him falter and drop his sword. Gaer: Ahh...
Godrick kicks the Grafted Blade Greatsword aside.
The dragon head bites down on Gaer's hand; he maneuvers the axe head such that the shoulder is trapped between the blade and the handle.
Godrick's powerful muscles wrench backwards.
Gaer tries to resist with all his bodily might.
Godrick's axe chops off Gaer's other arm.
The dragon head grasps Gaer's body.
Gareth and Nepheli arrive.
Gareth: GAER!
Gaer, limp, weak, bleeding: Gareth... Gareth...
The dragon head lets out a great conflagration, rendering Gaer into cinders.
The ashes scatter into the sky, flying freely.
Gareth is at a loss. He does not know how to feel.
He grits his teeth, warped by anger, at himself, at his brother, at Godrick.
Gareth charges forward, shield in front.
The dragon lets loose fire.
Gareth holds his ground in the inferno.
The dragon fire relents. The shield's metal is melted.
A view of Gareth's hand. The heated metal has burnt his own hand.
Through the power of the storm, Godrick has moved himself in front of Gareth.
His resolve hardened, Gareth tightens his grip on the shield.
Godrick beats his axe against the shield over and over.
Godrick: Gaer, was his name? You're not his equal. Godrick: You refrained from bringing a weapon.
Gareth's eyes peek above the shield, furious. Gold graces his eyes.
Godrick: This can't be...
Gareth's eyes, shining brilliantly with gold. Godrick: Gold! Thine eyes, flecked with gold!
Godrick: A Tarnished, whom Marika loves more? Godrick: A Tarnished?! Godrick: A TARNISHED!!
Gareth beats the edge of his shield against Godrick's face.
Godrick is stunned. Gareth raises the shield high above his head, like a hammer.
Gareth slams the shield against Godrick's face. Gareth: ARGHHH!
Gareth slams the shield over and over.
Godrick stumbles backwards; his hand covers his face, which is wet with blood. Godrick: Oh... Oh...
The hand moves away. Godrick's nose has been beaten crooked, an eye falling out of its socket. Godrick: I understand why Marika sent you to me...
Godrick: She meant me to take your body, for grafting... He slides the eye back into its socket.
Nepheli charges at Godrick.
Godrick, still bloodied, bears his axe against Nepheli, while on his back.
Gareth bears his shield down, over and over on Godrick's axe hand.
Nepheli lands on Godrick's chest.
She brutalizes Godrick, cutting off limb after limb.
Unable to cut off the two main arms effectively, she ravages his face, cutting his nose, lips, and eyes.
The dragon head grabs Nepheli.
The dragon head hums with fire.
Gareth slides the greatshield into the dragon's mouth.
The dragon's head blows fire.
The greatshield melts from the intense heat.
Sparks hit Nepheli's face, burning it but not consuming her flesh.
Fire too spills out of the dragon's mouth, but it has no effect on its scales.
The fire ceases.
However, Godrick straining the dragon's throat, blood spurts out of the mouth, painting Nepheli.
The dragon head becomes lifeless once more; not even runes could prevent its exhaustion. It falls from Godrick's arm, and Nepheli too.
Godrick is sprawled out; his axe arm is too numb and crushed to defend itself; he can't see, and the pain immobolizes him. Godrick: Ohhh... Gareth stares down at the exhausted dragon.
Gareth: This dragon...was the lover, friend, brother of that other dragon, that attacked us... Gareth: He burnt Gareth's hand...blunted his swordsmanship... Gareth: ...His brother...
Gareth grits his teeth, in rage.
Gareth hovers over Godrick, on his knees. He picks up Godrick's face. Godrick, his tongue caught off, blood spilling from his mouth: Wa... Wa...
Gareth beats Godrick's face, his fists falling down like hammers.
Gareth picks up Godrick's face again. He is not saying anything; such is the brutality of his thoughts.
He beats Godrick again.
Gareth brings his giant fists around Godrick's neck.
Godrick resists. Godrick: A-bah...shaaaa...
Godrick is silent. His face turns pale.
Godrick dies. Tears are in his eyes.
Water falls on Godrick's face.
Tears stream down Gareth's eyes.
Gareth's hands fall around Godrick's neck. Gareth kneels, crying, wordless. He looks like he is cradled in Godrick's bosom.
Nepheli, scorched but still alive, stands over him. Words do not occur to her.
Nepheli: Gareth.
Nepheli: Gareth.
Nepheli gently pushes Gareth aside.
She brings an axe up.
She brings it down into Godrick's chest.
The chest opens up. A golden shine comes from the cavity.
Nepheli pushes her hands into it.
She pulls out the Great Rune.
Nepheli's eyes are transfixed by the gleam of the rune. Nepheli: The Great Rune. Nepheli: A shard of the Elden Ring. Nepheli: The mark of those who are worthy. Nepheli: To sit, strong, on the Elden Throne.
Nepheli: It's so beautiful...comforting... Nepheli: A consolation, for the battles Marika forced upon one...
Nepheli snaps out of it. She looks to Gareth.
Gareth is still kneeling. His face is on his fists. Rivers fall down those fists, and leave a lake beneath them.
Even Nepheli is hurt, seeing how much pain he is in. She kneels down.
Nepheli: This is yours, by right. Nepheli: Do whatever you want with it, and your life.
Nepheli: But, it is yours. Nepheli gently pushes her hand into Gareth's fists.
She pries with a little more force.
His palms finally opened; little wounds there bleed, from where his fingernail cuts.
The Great Rune falls into his hands.
Gareth, for a moment, is comforted by the warmth of gold.