Artorias needed to escape. Leaping from building to building, he grew ever closer to the edge of this accursed city. He could feel the primal grasp of the Abyss close around his mind, slowly eating away at his sanity. It's primal power tempting his mind to give in.

Any threat that faced Artorias was met with a swift slash or swing that vanquished anything in his way. The corrupted denizens of Oolacile were unable to react when the Abysswalker struck them down, and he never once stopped to check if his foes were truly slain.

Finally, the Knight of Gwyn could see the town's edge in view, but the grasp of the Abyss grew ever stronger as he sprinted through the ruins, threatening to take his mind if he were too slow.

Leaping high, he reached the top of a ruined colosseum, perhaps once a great place of entertainment, now twisted into ruins. As he readied to jump down and escape the cursed town, the Abyss seized control of his body and ignored his mind's desperate defence. Leaping down, the Abysswalker impaled a lone bloathead upon his sword with a scream.

In a few seconds of lucidity after the brutal kill, Artorias managed to spew out a few words to the presence nearby, who was lucky the bloathead was closer.

"Whatever thou art, stay away." His voice was otherworldly, foreign to his own ears, yet he spoke regardless. "Soon, I will be consumed, by them... by the dark." Within moments the Abyss tightened it's grasp around his mind, it's primal will forcing a roar out of the Knight as he threw the impaled bloathead's corpse at what appeared to be an elite knight from the lands of Astora.

Without another sound, Artorias leapt into the air before slamming down his sword on the unknown knight. The Astoran managed to roll out of the way, though his shoulder was grazed by the barbaric attack. Without a word, his foe let out a barrage of swings and slashes with his elegant sword, tearing apart Artorias' flesh and armor.

The Abysswalker did not react, and instead let out a roar as hundreds of years of training were discarded in exchange for attacks akin to a wild predator. Swinging wildly, he was met by a shield blocking his strikes. Rolling away, the Knight let fly a Lightning Spear towards Artorias, who deflected this mimicry of his lord's attack with ease.

He never expected the second one.

Striking him, the Spear brought yet another valuable moment of lucidity to the Abysswalker, who could only hope to warm this foe lest he be slain.

"I beg of thee, the spread of the Abyss... I-it must be stopped." My words seemed to reach the warrior, who nodded silently before resuming his stance.

Just as before, the darkness took hold of the Abysswalker's mind once again as he channeled the dark power of the abyss to butcher this insignificant knight.

In response, the undead threw yet another Lightning Spear at the corrupted knight of Gwyn. It slammed into him with such force that the channeling ceased, and the Astoran charged. Unleashing another flurry of blows, the unknown knight brought Artorias to his knees. As he watched the executioner prepare his blade, Artorias let out his last, grief-filled apology.

"All of you... Forgive me, for I have availed you nothing." His once youthful voice spoke, still affected by the abyss and otherworldy.

The knight's blade plunged into his chest, and in his last dying breaths, Artorias managed to greet his faithful companion.

"Ah, Sif. There you are."

With his last words, Artorias the Abysswalker, Knight of Gwyn, was slain. The corrupted warrior died with a smile, for his shattered mind knew that the Astoran Knight would succeed where he had failed. Thus, the legendary Artorias was laid low, and the great knight was gone.

Yet the legend of Artorias the Abysswalker would not end here. The great Knight of Gwyn would forge a new legend, in a world much unlike his own, in a land foreign to his cause.

Artorias woke up with a start, the memory of the blade plunged in his chest fresh on his mind. The knight looked at his chest, and was shocked. For his battered and injured form was replaced by an appearance not unlike his look before the dreaded journey to the town of Oolacile. Artorias looked down to his previously limp left arm, which was miraculously mended, save for a slight ache.

Standing up on pained legs. the knight claimed his rightful sword, still stained black with the blood of Oolacile's corrupted denizens. Picking up his sword, Artorias practiced with his newly mended arm, cleaving a nearby tree in two.

Wait, a tree? As this revelation hit Artorias, he heard a distant whimper, far too familiar to the recovering Abysswalker. Sprinting, Artorias came upon a disturbing sight. His faithful companion Sif grazed within a clearing, albeit MUCH larger than before, easily dwarfing the Wolf Knight himself.

However, what caught the revived Artorias' attention was the injuries his friend had suffered. Coated in blood not entirely her own, the great wolf walked with a heavy limp, patrolling what appeared to be his Cleaning Greatshield. Heedless of danger, the noble Abysswalker sprinted towards his injured companion, embracing the fluffy wolf with all his heart. In response, Sif let out a light 'yip' at the sudden weight pressed upon her. Turning to face her master, Sif let out an excited bark that would seem more like a growl to an outside observer.

"Ah, Sif. There you are. Thy companionship is much appreciated." Re-using his last words, the knight picked up his shield with his right hand, as he preferred. Sheathing his greatsword, Artorias used this time to pet his loyal friend. Unfortunately, this could only last so long.

Interrupting this moment was a loud cry of pain, sounding vaguely female for the brief duration of the cry. Artorias was on his feet and ready for battle within moments, lest the local fauna be hostile as the demons of Izalith. His sword and shield were in hand, ready to slay anything that would seek his death

Observing the greenery around them, Artorias heard it before he saw it. A furious howl echoed, and a beast of charcoal leapt towards the knight. Acting quickly he slashed the beast that dared to attack from the shadows. He witnessed blood shoot out from whatever he dismembered, for a lone grey limb laid in a pool of red. The beast landed with a very human cry, and he turned to face his foe.

It was a woman. Clutching a bleeding stump of an arm, he observed his foe silently. Lupine ears, and paws where hands should be. The eyes were burned with both physical and metaphorical fire, as the being stared at him with a burning hatred. He ignored the more lewd aspects of the attacker, thinking it to be a lure for foolish humans.

He approached, and it crawled away. The sobbing, retreating monster was stopped dead in her tracks by Sif, a single paw on it's chest halting movement. Artorias watched it cry out in pain, and sought to put it out of it's misery.

Then, he saw her, a weeping daughter of the Chaos Witch Izalith, crying as Gwyn's forced ravaged her home. The Black Knights tore through the demons of Chaos, pushing their way to the heart of their land.

No 'innocents' were spared in Gwyn's crusade, as his knights butchered all in their path to the Witch herself. Leading one such force, Artorias ripped through the many demons surrounding this Daughter of Chaos.

He finally reached the objective, a pitiful girl too ill and injured to defend herself, and so, Knight Artorias raised his blade, and struck.

Now the child of Izalith was gone, replaced by the weeping creature with a sword to it's throat.

In an act that suprised all present, even himself, Artorias sheathed his blade and whispered something incomprehensible to the hellhound. She could only watch in awe as the knight's Healing Miracle mended flesh and bone, leaving a stump of skin where her arm once lay. Not long after, the hellhound passed out from shear shock.

Artorias himself was drained, forced to mend such a grievous injury. However, he could not stop now, and lifted the hellhound onto his shoulder, ignoring the jealous looks of Sif.

"Worry not, Great Sif, thou has not been replaced." A pout was her response. Sighing, the Wolf Knight continued on, oblivious of the predatory eyes that gazed upon him.

A/N

Second story I've posted, so don't expect a truly Shakespearean tale of Artorias travelling the lands. Also, Fromsoft cutting all his dialouge is criminal.

Poor development decisions aside, any criticism on writing this fic are much appreciated, as I'm a bit new to this. Also, don't get your hopes up for smut, this isn't a Naruto fic.