Hello and welcome to my fictional form of Dark Souls. There will be multiple changes to the overall world that will become apparent as this story progresses.
If you have not played Dark Souls, I highly recommend you do.
I do not own in anyway Dark Souls or any of it's characters.
A lone figure sat against a wall in a dark and moldy cell. At first glance, he would appear to be a normal human. But upon closer inspection, discrepancies would be revealed. His flesh had a pale reddish color, and was sunken, clinging to his bones and withered muscles. He wore dark leather armor, tattered from disuse and time. A hood covered most of his face. To his left was a sword hilt with about three inches of the blade left on it. He took in a long wheezy breath before keeling over and dying.
For a few moments the body lay still, before the being jolted back to life with a gasp. The muscle had increase in size slightly. He groaned for a moment before grabbing the sword hilt and standing up. He strolled over to the opposite wall and carved a small line in it. "Number 700. I guess I should celebrate somehow." His voice was rough, as though he had just inhaled a handful of sawdust before trying to speak. Small carvings and words covered the walls.
He then went through a series of movements, practicing with the hilt as if the blade were whole again. Slash, parry, thrust, repeat. Often he would shift his stance, or the grip on his weapon: pretending to wield a greatsword one moment, and a rapier the next. He moved with the confidence of a trained knight, and with the smoothness of a thief.
After he finished slaying hundreds of imaginary opponents. He begins exercising. Push-ups, handstand push-ups, sit-ups, squats, etc. He did these for hours, until he heard a banging on his cell door. He turned to see a being with glowing red eyes, the skin pulled tight against its skull.
"Oh hello George!" The prisoner says.
He receives a groan in reply.
"How did your date with Theresa go?"
Another groan.
"Do tell?"
A few groans and a growl
"That's just terrible."
a mumble.
"You have a good day too."
A final groan before the creature walks away.
For it was another one like him, save for the poor thing had lost its sanity, and looked more like a skeleton then the prisoner did.
They were both hollow, having been marked with the Darksign. When they died, they lost all of their humanity, and their souls. Considered to be abominations by humanity, they were both cast into the horrid place. There they rotted. Or at least George did. The prisoner dedicated his time to strengthening himself and memorizing all that he had learned before coming here.
The prisoner sighed. "Another day in paradise." He rested against the wall once more. Why was it that most of the cell doors had rusted away, save for his? He must have just been lucky. The other "prisoners" wandered about the small hallway that lead to his cell.
Immersed in his thoughts, he barely noticed the clunking overhead. Suddenly, the corpse of a hollow fell onto the ground in front of him. He looked up to see a person in knight's armor. They gave him a small nod before walking away. He quickly patted the corpse down, finally finding a small key.
Surprisingly, the door's rusted lock still worked. Picking up his sword, he left the small cell he had lived in for roughly four years. He looked back for a moment, wondering if he was really ready to leave this small world of his, and journey into the real one. He shook his head and continued down the hallway.
If only he knew of the horrors and struggles he would face...
As this is the prologue, it is rather short. Have no fear! I will try and have longer chapters. Please Review so that you can help me help you by helping me make a better story!
2/9/19 edit: Fixed all the typos I could find. I'm going to answer all reviews for each chapter at the beginning of the next.