The winds were picking up as the dark clouds materialized in the distance. For a brief instant, the impending storms appeared miniscule. That was until the sporadic dance of lightning broke out amongst the sky. The barren wasteland became a fiery field of lambent shadows. After what seemed an eternity, the catastrophe ceased, and the abandoned desert became a battlefield for the approaching army. An army of undead dragons, led by the disreputable Dovahkiin.
The kingslayer stood above the open battleground, surveying the best possible solution to approach the army. He never witnessed a dragon with his own eyes, but learned enough legends over his lifetime to understand their weaknesses. The problem was, however, staying alive long enough to strike it down. The commander of these dragons had an intimidating guise, but a Lannister such as the kingslayer prided themselves in a dangerous battle. He placed his golden hand upon the hilt of his sword and began his descent toward the enemy.
On the other side of the desert stood a decaying blue door. As it swung open, a battle-hardened and detached man emerged, carrying two very distinct revolvers. Roland never understood his arrival to such foreign worlds. He always found himself in a conflict with something that never truly felt beneficial. No matter the situation, the engagement had to be dealt with, and Roland always knew his part was of utmost importance. As he gazed upon the giant, decomposing lizard creatures, his hands fell to his weapons and his conscience thrust him forward.
The ground quaked with ferocity as the undead army took its position. In the background of the fractured and uninhabited terrain stood a blooming city full of helpless victims. Dovahkiin shifted his empty eyes behind him toward his followers, eager to unleash the devastating annihilation. As he turned back in the direction of his target, a lone individual stood obstructing the path. A golden hand glimmered on one side, a large great sword on the other. Dovahkiin’s anger surged even stronger with this hindrance. Before calling out an attack, two loud cracks filled the air and the dragon he rode upon collapsed, throwing him to the ground.
The once burning eyes of his dragon now ran red with blood. Dovahkiin raised his head in the direction of the noise to see Roland holstering his revolvers, smoke tumbling from the barrels. He stood, drew his Daedric bow, and let loose a flaming arrow. Roland hurdled to avoid the quick projectile but was just too slow as it grazed his left thigh. He fell to the ground as a trickle of blood ran down his leg. Dovahkiin drew another arrow and held his aim toward Roland, but heard footsteps behind him approaching swiftly. He turned and unleashed the arrow, but Jaime slashed and split the bolt in two. He tackled Dovahkiin to the ground, losing his footing as well. He looked upward hearing the startling hiss of a dragon, and met eyes with the deadly creature.
With Dovahkiin clutching at the kingslayer’s feet, he realized his death was imminent. The dragon opened his jowls, readying the flames to burn him alive. He turned his head to avoid the heat, and noticed his sword nearby. As the dragon lowered back down for attack, Jaime thrust his sword into the bottom of the dragons jaw until it ruptured up between its eyes. It fell with a thunderous collision onto the cracked dirt. Before Jaime even had the chance to resituate, he heard the scream of Dovahkiin and sound of steel piercing through the air.
He caught the blade with his golden hand. Another crack erupted from the distance, distracting both men on the ground. Roland hit another dragon, but not enough to bring it down. It whipped its tail around and made contact with his ribcage, launching him into the air. He made impact with Dovahkiin, throwing him off the kingslayer and back to the ground. All three men were reeling in pain, attempting to regain their balance. Roland could feel the broken ribs inside him as he held his abdomen. With his last attempt to end this madness, he cleared his mind and lost himself into nothingness. The ground beneath the undead army began to shake. As the dragons were beginning to avoid their inbound obliteration, an immense black gateway beneath their claws opened, drawing them down into another dimension.
All three men were now alone and on their feet, prepared for combat. Dovahkiin had lost his army and had to rely on his own abilities to defeat these nuisances. Roland held a revolver in one hand and his chest in the other. The pain was excruciating, but he still managed to raise the weapon on Dovahkiin. Before he could pull the trigger, a dagger manifested and stabbed through his forearm, forcing him to drop his gun. Jaime charged at his enemy but fell short as another dagger pinned his foot into the dirt. He cried in agony as he made an attempt to wrench it loose. Both men were now at the disposal of Dovahkiin.
The dragonborn adversary approached the wounded Roland Deschain, beaming an evil smile. He unsheathed his ancient sword and held it high above his head. As he swung downward, Roland spent the last of his energy tossing his revolver to the kingslayer. Before the head of Roland touched the ground, Jaime used his only good hand to grab the unfamiliar weapon. When Dovahkiin turned his gaze to him, he was met with a burning sensation between his hollow eyes. His body went limp and collapsed. The kingslayer had emerged victorious as he lay amongst the fallen victims in his broken wasteland.