AN: This is a pretty long story, so I've taken the liberty of breaking it up into three sub-chapters so you don't lose your place and rage quit . You're welcome! You should already know this, but since this is fanfiction none of this is to be taken as lore and should be treated as the idle ramblings of a teenager who has just discovered his love of writing. Also I make up several characters that don't exist, and the full list of non-existent characters will be posted at the end of part three. I will upload chapter II. tomorrow, and chapter III. (maybe) the day after. Kthxbye!

Disclaimer: (The characters don't talk like you'd might expect, they may occasionally use more modern lingo so you can associate with them more or whatever. Plus, please don't leave rage comments such as: "Thats not how Ciaran acts!" Or something like: "Why does Artorias have black hair? Some shady source told me he was a brunette!" etc. Its a fan fiction, remember?) -TSM

"Artorias"

Once, there were Four Knights. The first was the proud and honorable Ornstein, who was considered by many to be the definition of "Knight in Shining Armor." The second was Gough, an incredible archer with the body of a giant, and the mind of a philosopher. The third was Ciaran, a deadly assassin who struck down foes more mercilessly then any of the Four.

The fourth was the conflicted Artorias. Artorias was a legendary warrior who put human heroes to shame. Artorias was once the strongest, and wisest, of the Four. He was also known to be the only person to ever enter the Abyss and return with sanity fully intact.

Perhaps it was some sort of punishment for his frequent "Abyss Walking," or maybe it was just poor fortune. Whatever the case, Artorias entered the Abyss one day and returned… Not quite the same.

This is his story. Make what you will of it.

I.

Voices.

Voices everywhere.

I can't do it.

I can't hurt them.

Don't make me.

Please. Don't make me.

"AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHH" Artorias screamed, his terrible wailing cry echoing in helmet. Some distant part of his mind realized that his head was on Ciaran's lap, and that she was looking down at him with concern.

"Artorias! ARTORIAS!" Ciaran's commanding voice brought him back to the world. "Artorias. It's just another dream."

"More like a nightmare." Gough said with a slight chuckle from across the room.

Ciaran shot Gough a sharp look, which was easy now that she had removed her helmet. Ciaran looked back to Artorias with a kind face. "Look… Let's do the mirror treatment again. It'll make you feel better."

Artorias nodded slowly, he feared that too much movement would cause him to hurl in his helmet. You only make that mistake once.

Ciaran helped Artorias remove his helmet, and directed his vision towards the rectangular mirror she held in her hand.

Artorias stared into the mirror. His own luminescent blue eyes stared back at him, which Artorias found to be oddly calming.

Gough noticed Artorias and Ciaran together, and he chuckled for a second time. "You have him look at himself any longer and he'll fall in love."

Ciaran threw a stone brick at him, which bounced harmlessly off Gough's shoulder.

Gough grinned. "Point taken." He said, holding back laughter. Gough got up slowly, and left the room.

Ciaran noticed with some satisfaction that Gough had to stoop very low to get through the doorway.

Ciaran of all people felt most at home in this room, for it was the reflection room of the Great Castle.

The Great Castle appeared as one might suspect; it was gigantic, built for people twice the size of Sentinels, which proved to be very awkward for shorter people such as Ciaran.

For you see, the Four Knights were not normal humans. Their species was the ancient ancestor of primeval humans.

Gough was quite obviously the tallest, standing at an incredible fourteen feet. Ornstein was the second tallest, making a respectable ten feet. Artorias stood around eight feet tall.

Surrounded by these giant pseudo-humans, the six-foot tall Ciaran felt ridiculously small.

Most areas in the Great Castle were built for giants, but the reflection room was specifically designed for much shorter beings, the main doorway standing at roughly eleven feet. The Great Castle was perhaps one of Anor Londo's most spectacular constructions, and it was especially dedicated to Lord Gwyn's first daughter, Gwynevere. Although the giant goddess was currently absent, the castle was still used for important meetings between the deities of Anor Londo, and great heroes such as the Four Knights.

"Spectacular. I had forgotten how much this could assist me." Artorias said, smiling.

"Good. Now quit with the screaming and follow me, Gwyn's holding some sort of meeting. It will reflect badly on all of us if you don't attend." Ciaran said matter-of-factly.

Artorias's smile vanished from view, as if he had put on a ring of fog. "Yes. It would reflect badly. Reflect… Huh. Ciaran I need to tell you something very important."

Ciaran's heartbeat sped up, as if she were in combat with a deadly opponent. What did he want to talk about? Did it concern the two of them?

"I've been meaning to tell you, tell you all in fact. These nightmares are no passing issue… They're getting worse each time I walk the Abyss. My suffering is increasing so much. Sometimes when I wake up I feel like a want to… Want to… I saw Ornstein once, lying on his side, his helmet discarded. I thought… I thought… How easy it would be to kill him in his sleep… I… I'm slipping Ciaran. Please, if something happens to me you need to know that I-"

A silver knight jogged into the room, and cut Artorias off.

"Sir Artorias, Siress Ciaran, the meeting is about to commence. Please follow me."

"We're in the middle of something you know!" Ciaran snapped.

The silver knight held up hand, as if trying to ward off Ciarans' reply. "I'm sorry, but it's Lord Gwyn's orders." He said apologetically.

Ciaran sighed, and helped Artorias up off the ground.

Artorias put on his helmet, grabbed his greatshield with his left hand, and slung his greatsword over his back.

"We had better get going." Artorias said calmly, his misty eyes safely hidden behind his helmet.

Ciaran donned her porcelain mask. The mask was designed to hide her angelic features, yet it allowed her flowing blond hair to escape the helmet.

Without another word, Artorias and Ciaran followed the silver knight.

When they arrived in the Hall of Voices, the largest auditorium of its time, Ornstein and Gough were already seated, with a great host of silver knights taking up the four hundred human-sized seats.

Several other famous (and perhaps infamous) people stood at attention within the Hall. From a brief glance, Artorias noticed the Executioner Smough, the Infested Count, Pardoner Verrick, Bishop Havel the Rock, Seath the Scaleless, and several other people of great prominence. This meeting must truly be of great importance for even people like the Count and Pardoner Verrick to arrive. The Infested Count was an ambassador of Blightown that kept the few remaining sain creatures informed, and the Pardoner was an emissary of the rogue god Velka.

Artorias knew that if a shameless deity such as Velka wished to know what was occurring within the walls of Anor Londo, something incredible serious was sure to be discussed.

Artorias took a seat, with Ornstein on his left and Ciaran on his right. Ornstein wore his helmet, whereas Gough hadn't even taken the time to bother.

Artorias knew that while Gough was prone to bursts of intellectual passion, there was no denying that the man looked like a bloody brute, from his crooked nose to his brown, sunken eyes; Gough had the face of a warrior and the mind of a genius.

Lord Gwyn stood from his throne, and addressed the gathered warriors.

"Greetings one, and greetings all," Gwyn said, his voice perfectly audible from the back of the hall. "I'll be blunt with you, as bluntness is the best way most of you understand things."

The audience chuckled.

"The township of Oolacile is under the shadow of the Abyss. The Abyss has once again grown too powerful for us to contain. If the Abyss is not kept at bay, it will grow and consume all of Oolacile, and by extension, all of Lordran. Do not fret, for I have a solution. We shall send two teams of warriors to Oolacile."

Lord Gywn swept an arm dramatically, and pointed directly at Artorias.

"The first team will be led by Artorias. The team will be compromised of the following: Artorias the Abysswalker, the great grey wolf Sif, the Shining Knight Tellegan, and the Defender Kurrikai. This team will invade the Abyss through Artorias's… Unique… power, and will slay the monster that controls the Abyss. Your secondary objective is to save Dusk, the princess of Oolacile, who is being held by the beast."

Artorias looked over his two new team members. The Shining Knight Tellegan was a lesser hero remembered for his terrible folly: Legend says that Tellegan's own village was incinerated by a drake while he sat in the Great Castle, polishing his odd blue armor so that it would "Shine brighter than the Sun." The title "Shining" was a horrific reminder of his ignorance.

The second warrior was Kurrikai, the Defender. There wasn't much to say about Kurrikai; he was a decent fighter and good companion, albeit very sharp tongued. His armor was very strange, it took on a silver hue, and the knight often claimed that it would grow a dense patch of thorns on the surface if the right words were chanted at the right time. This had never been witnessed, so most believed it to be fiction.

The companion Artorias was most glad to set out with was his wolf, Sif. Sif was currently recuperating from a broken paw, but the injuries would be healed within the hour. The two had met at the Battle of the Horrors, and had become inseperable ever after. Perhaps they both saw the atrocities that occurred there, and shared a mutual bond because of it. Sif was just a pup then, but now he stood at roughly four feet, and held a glowing sword in his mouth in combat.

Lord Gywn cleared his throat noisily, and continued speaking.

"The second team will be led by Gough. The list of people is as follows: Hawkeye Gough, Lord's Blade Ciaran, White Eyes Aerath of the silver knights, and Silvach the Glutton.

Ciaran rolled her eyes from behind her helmet at Silvach's name. The cleric was utterly obsessed with eating, and had he taken a better life style, the man could have perhaps been one of the Knights of Gwyn, for his prowess in combat had once been legendary.

Aerath was a more respectable warrior, she was one of the highest ranking silver knights, and had held her own against both Havel and Ornstein during a training session at the same time. The spear master would be a welcome addition to the group.

"The second team's goal is simple. You must insure that Artorias and company reach the Abyss without any distractions. Use of extreme force is advised; do not let anything harm Artorias's team. The two teams will set for Oolacile tomorrow. Do not fail us."

"Also, I have additional instructions not directly related with the Abyss issue. Firstly, Dragonslayer Ornstein and Executioner Smough will be stationed at the Cathedral to protect Gwynevere until further instructions are given."

Ornstein stiffened at this proclamation; Smough's hate for the Knights of Gwyn was legendary. Smough's anger had started after he was denied entry to the Knights, due to his habit of grounding up the bones of his victims as seasoning.

Smough looked over towards Ornstein and laughed. The laugh was freakishly high-pitched for such a gigantic man.

Ornstein made sure Smough had a good view of his Dragonslayer Spear.

Lord Gywn gave off a series of instructions for several other teams. The teams had various jobs, such as: Protecting Anor Londo's entrances, hunting down a giant red drake that had begun terrorizing a small town, giving a peace offering to the Black Dragon Kalameet, and requesting the medical abilities of an ancient sorcerer who had secluded himself in a dark forest.

The list of tasks that needed to be completed went on and on, until Lord Gywn finally dismissed the congregation.

Artorias checked his weaponry, removed his helmet, and walked over to Ciaran.

Ciaran sheathed her golden tracer and turned to him.

"Well, good luck out there." Artorias said encouragingly.

"You shouldn't do this! The Abyss could break you this time." Ciaran said, full of concern.

"Your complaint is noted… And ignored." Artorias joked.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling good enough to jest, but… Watch yourself."

"When have I not?"

Ciaran laughed. "We both know the answer to that."

Artorias frowned. "We both know the cleric stabbed me."

"The cleric wasn't even there!"

"Whatever."

Ciaran rolled her eyes from behind her helmet, and reached into her pack. "Look, for my sanity and your own, take this."

Ciaran handed out a rare commodity: A hand mirror. The mirror was about a foot wide, and was nestled in a wooden circle with a handle.

Artorias took the mirror and put it in his own pack.

Ciaran blinked rapidly, and gave Artorias an unexpected hug. "Be safe," she whispered.

Artorias was caught unaware and obviously didn't know how to react.

Ciaran backed off and joined her team.

Artorias put on his helmet quickly, never had he been so grateful for the face-obscuring piece of metal. It would be a shame if his team saw their leader shedding tears over a brief separation from his companions.

Artorias reflected that the meat of the trip was incredibly uneventful. Sleeping on grass and keeping watch three hours a night was far from enjoyable, but it could be worse. It could be raining or something, he thought glumly.

A bolt of lightning traversed the sky, and a great deluge of rain fell from the heavens.

Artorias looked up as a drop of rain the size of an arrow head splashed in his eye. Nice.

Artorias absentmindedly stroked Sif's fur with one hand, and looked into the mirror with the other. Artorias didn't notice how empty his gaze was looked until he was staring right into his own eyes. The bags under his eyes and the pathetic glazed pupils were definitely not good signs.

Tellegan looked over his sword intently, making sure it was free of scratches. That settled, he began polishing his blue helmet that had been crafted in the likeness of a man's face.

Kurrikai was asleep, his rapier and sword lying very close to his person.

Artorias closed his eyes and fell into another nightmare.

A few days after the downpour, the party of four reached Oolacile. As expected, Oolacile had been mostly reduced to rubble, and then again to ash.

The Shining Knight Tellegan was the first to speak their minds.

"Where the hell are all the people?"

"I think I just saw movement, to the east." The Defender Kurrikai noted.

"I saw it too. Might have been a human." Artorias affirmed. "Me and Sif will check it out, you two guard this area."

Tellegan laughed. "Defend this area from what? There's nothing here."

Artorias gave him an exasperated look and donned his helmet.

Artorias and Sif walked towards the person who had escaped their view. They ducked through a crumbling stone building, and navigated through a maze of stone pillars. Many of the pillars had fallen over, and moss seemed to cling to ever bit of stone visible to the naked eye.

Sif gave a short bark.

Artorias looked down at his faithful companion. "I know… This place wasn't attacked… It was destroyed from the inside."

Artorias and Sif rounded a corner, and saw a human squatting with his back to the man and beast.

"Uh, hello? Sir or Madam, you are in serious danger." Artorias called to the figure.

The human stood up, and turned around.

Artorias's eyes widened as the man leapt at him, arms outstretched and face concealed by a raggedy shirt.

Artorias was barely able to shake the man off.

"Sir what are you do-… Good Gods."

The mans' shirt fell away from his head, exposing his true form. The man wasn't a man at all, but instead an atrocity with a humanoid body.

The beast had freakishly extended arms and legs, and its face was bloated and sagged, with at least twenty dimly glowing red eyes on the surface of its freakish head. Several odd roots extended from his head, and curled in all directions.

The thing gave an animal-like scream and charged Artorias again.

Artorias reached for his greatsword but was too slow; the thing knocked him off balance and scraped his chestplate with a set of extendable claws.

Artorias fell over and struck the ground heavily.

The creature with the bloated head crawled over and pinned Artorias down as it desperately tried to remove his helmet. One look at those claws and Artorias knew that if the damned bloathead got to his unprotected head he was going to die.

Sif leapt at the bloathead and grasped the things disgusting head with his jaws. Sif then fell to the side, his body mass dragging the bloathead off Artorias.

The bloathead began savagely scratching Sif's body, leaving patches of red fur to litter the stone ground.

Artorias drew his greatsword and lopped the beast's head off in one fluid strike. Sif was panting and covered in blood on his left side, but thankfully the injuries were minor.

Artorias took the glowing sword from his other sheath, and tossed it to Sif. Sif caught the sword in his mouth and whined excitedly.

Artorias was about to speak when he heard Tellegan's voice.

"ARTORIAS! ARTORIAS RUN! GET TO THE CAVE!."

Cave? Artorias thought, and turned to see a crack in the floor barely wide enough to let a man through. Calling it a cave was incredibly generous.

Artorias looked over to where Tellegan's call had come from, and saw his two companions running at top speed, a mob of bloatheads far behind them. Artorias counted perhaps fifty of the creatures; too many to fight in this jungle of stone ruins. Tellegan had lost his characteristic blue helmet and shield, and his sword was stained with blood. Kurrikai was completely unarmed, his sword and rapier lodged in the chest of a particularly large bloathead.

Kurrikai and Tellegan came to a screeching halt when they reached Artorias.

"What are you doing just standing there!?" Kurrikai shouted. "Jump down the hole!"

"Are you mad?" Artorias shouted back. "That crack will lead perhaps five feet into the ground. Those bloatheaded monsters will make short work of us!"

"We met up with the other team!" Tellegan shouted, voice rising in pitch. "They said to jump into the crack near the pillars! It's a secret entrance to the Abyss! It leads straight to the beasts' lair!"

"The other team? How do they fare?" Artorias inquired.

"No time!" Kurrikai replied. "The beasts are nearly upon us. Jump!"

Sif seemed to get the message first, and leapt into the crack.

Kurrikai followed suite, and Artorias was about to jump himself when he heard Tellegan's strangled cry.

One bloathead, much faster than the rest, had grabbed Tellegan by the chest, and began savaging his unprotected head with its deadly claws.

"TELLEGAN!" Artorias screamed, but before he could react, Tellegan put all his remaining power into one kick, and sent Artorias sprawling back. Artorias struck the ground with his head, and fell into the earth. His last view of the surface world was Tellegans' bloodstained face, the infamous knight's golden hair matted with his own blood.

Artorias fell… And fell… And fell…

Artorias thought he spotted Kurrikai perhaps thirty feet below him as the group continued to fall. Artorias tried his luck and called to his companion.

"Kurrikai! This isn't a normal cave!"

"Really?" Kurrikai's sarcastic voice floated back up. "Maybe that's why we've been falling for five minutes and haven't hit the ground or a hanging rock!"

Artorias squinted, it was getting harder to see Kurrikai, and the warriors' voice was barely audible over the sound of the wind rushing past him.

"What do you think happens when he hit the bottom?" Artorias asked, realizing how stupid the question sounded after it left his lips.

"You have a catalyst and the unquestionable mastery of the fall control spell?" Kurrikai asked innocently.

"No!" Artorias called back.

There was a pause in the conversation.

"Then we die." Kurrikai said darkly.

"That's a shame. Tellegan was slain by one of those freaks… I can't believe he's dead because I wouldn't jump when you told me to!"

"Don't be too hard on yourself. At least he had an honorable death in combat. We're going to be slain by a floor! Not the awe-inspiring end you hear in those heroic poems, eh Artorias?"

Artorias was about to reply, when Kurrikai's oddly peaceful voice called back up.

"Hey Artorias, I think I see some wate-"

Artorias barely had time to process this before he struck the water at possibly a hundred miles per hour in full armor. It was perhaps the greatest belly-flop of all time. Too bad nobody witnessed it.

Artorias had taken the five minutes of free-falling to prepare himself for either a painful death or a painful slow death, so the lack of pain when he struck the water was more surprising than anything else.

Artorias dimly realized the water must have some kind of enchantment as his vision blurred, and his helmet filled with water. He could perhaps feel a set of strong jaws latch onto his arm and began pulling him towards the surface. What was the point anyways? All Artorias could see was Tellegan's fearful eyes, the bloatheads horrific face, and worst of all, he imagined Ciaran looking down at him with a frown, as if wondering how a knight of Artorias' merit had been killed by a little water.