This just a little something I cooked up between my updates for existing fanfic. A book of the life stories for my various Dark Souls characters. My focus is mainly around DS3 but there will be mentions for content across all 3 games.

These are all one-shots that don't take much time and help keep the creative juices flowing.

Without further wait jump right in.

Disclaimer: I own nothing in these stories outside of the OC(s) that you have the pleasure of reading about. Everything is owned by their respective copyright holders. I am but a poor man residing in an attic.

It happened just as Yoel had foretold. As I learned of the world, I was brought back to I saw the truth he spoke. The Dark Soul was our path to salvation. The only path. The option Lord Gwyn forsook in lieu of his own power. The Hollowing. We all become hollow. At one point or another. God or Furtive Pygmy it mattered not. For even the seal of fire around our souls would wane. When it was finally shattered our true selves came to pass. No longer did we live in lies. Instead, we understood what we truly were.

Yuria had said similar. That the time of Fire was fading. That it was time for the Hollow's of Londor to rise. It was time to finish what the Primordial Darkstalker Kaathe spoke of in the fading hours of Gwyn's life. To allow the nature of the world to finally be righted. It was time for the First Sin to be undone. As I spoke to the Firekeeper of Fire Link Shrine I almost wavered. She was the first to stand at my side. In her own words, she would stay by my side no matter my choice. How could I not love her? She was a beautiful woman. Not only in body but mind and soul.

I had read the tomes of Londor. Of the Primordial Serpent Kaathe. Even tomes from the library of the royal family of Gwyn's pantheon. I knew the strain my use of bonfire's caused her. The untold agony it wrought upon her. I used them only as I needed. Opting to instead fight my way to every destination. The use of the Dark Hand allowed me to siphon life from my foes. To continue my single unkindled ash war. Each obstacle I overcame strengthened me more. Each soul I devoured fueled my anger. Each Lord I slew bolstered my resolve. The Age of Fire caused only suffering.

I had seen the Bedrock of the World. I had seen the Deep. Aldrich had left extensive records of his visions of the Age after Fire. I had struck down the unrightfully named Pontiff Sulyvahn to get them. He had corrupted far too much for me to let him live. Kidnapping the patron of my covenant Yorshka, Company Captain of the Blades of the Darkmoon. Feeding the Dark Sun Gwyndolin to the Devourer of Gods Aldrich. Taking over the manor of the Gods Anor Londo. Corrupting the outrider knights into his personal attack hounds. If the records were true, then he swayed the Lord of Cinder's I was summoned to kill, Prince Lothric, into letting the fire fade. He could have made an excellent ally when the time came. It was a shame he was far too tainted by his own power to see reason.

I had gone from a simple Ashen Hollow to the usurper of an age perpetuated by gods. I understood why so many fell to the Abyss. The legendary knight, Artorias the Abyss Walker. The man-eater, Aldrich Saint of the Deep. The formidable undead of The Undead Legion. So many had been consumed and I now knew the reason. I had ventured, in secret, to the land of Oolacile. With the converging of kingdoms, it took only a matter of months to find the old records hidden deep within the home of the Abyss. I found reference to a Chosen Undead who killed Manus Father of the Abyss. With his death, the Abyss went wild much like his humanity.

I further learned that Artorias never defeated the Abyss instead succumbing to its temptation. To its insanity. It was also that very Undead that killed the Four Kings. I gained the knowledge of the Great Betrayal by Gwyn. How he locked away our Dark Soul with a link of fire. How we lived a lie. Shackled by the gods. I learned that he used his daughter, Filianore, to keep us ignorant. When I traveled to the homeland of my ancestors, the Pygmies, I met her briefly. Her knight, Shira, led me to her. We conversed for a time before I made my choice. The Ringed city gave me many answers to questions that needed resolve. I touched the shell. I watched the world turn to ash around me. In my curiosity, I strode to the door and saw the damage. I truly was at the world's end.

As I walked, I found a Pygmy Lord crawling to Filianore's Rest. He had been babbling about a Red Hood coming for their Dark Soul. Over the crest of the ashen dessert, I saw him. My old acquaintance Gael. As we fought, I looked to my greatsword. Dripping from it was blood. Black blood. The Blood of the Dark Soul. I thought back to my time in the Painted World of Ariandel. Sister Friede, the oldest sister of the founders of the Sable Church, had become unkindled. Later convincing Father Ariandel to let the painted world rot. Imprisoning the Painting Woman, Aria, an apparent half-breed like my patron Yorshka. She spoke of a need for the Blood of the Dark Soul.

Returning to my battle with the monstrous Gael we dueled for days. The eternal twilight made time meaningless. Back and forth we went. Rending flesh. Fragmenting armor. Chipping blades. Painting a collage of blood and sweat onto the ashen dunes. After I struck him down, I returned to the Ariandel. To give the painter the pigment she desired. The Blood of the Dark Soul. With her thanks, she began to paint. Paint a world of a cold, dark, and very gentle place. The first world to be painted with the pigment of man. A sanctuary named Ash.

I now stood before the dying body of the Soul of Cinder. The final guard of the Age of Fire. My sword once stained in the Blood of the Dark Soul now fractured by the last remnant of the Age of Fire. I had brought her here. The Firekeeper. For what lord had not a queen. I had given her a gift. A gift that the gods had stolen from the tenders of the flame. Their eyes. I wanted her to see what would happen. I wanted her to see the Age of Man begin. The Age of Hollows. Yuria with her sister, Lillian, had arrived and behind them an army of Hollows.

As I usurped the fire, I could feel it. The world crying in joy. Nature had once again been restored. The natural order was returning. I could feel something we who had hollowed desired. Emotions. Not those faked by white souls. No this was the feeling of humanity. Now it was ours. I felt the flame that surrounded our souls whither away. We had been freed from the gods. The gambeson padding ruffled as I stood up. I could vaguely hear the clicking of my chainmail against the plate covering my arms. My cuirass suddenly felt lighter. The wolf's pelt covering my shoulder was softer. The stretching of leather could be heard as a stood. I looked at the hilt of my once massive sword. Tossing it to the side I grabbed the Coiled Greatsword from its resting place.

I looked to my bowing subjects. I had done the impossible. I had made Kaathe proud. Propelled the status of our goddess Velka. Soothed the rage of the world as nature took its course. I gazed at the fire keeper. With her robes flourishing as she strode to me. The Ordained Headpiece meant to keep them blind fell to ash. The most beautiful azure eyes I had ever seen stared right back. Her soft voice called to me in a siren song.

"I am yours Ashen One. Now and forevermore." Her hypnotic voice brought me back.

It was time for the Age of Hollows.

The Age of Man.

I would be known as Mandalore.

Mandalore the Hollowed.

Yall know the shtick.

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Ja Ne