Dark Souls- New Londo

I suppose you could call this "Fan fiction," but I feel that term usually has a negative connotation to it.

New Londo

         The hollows were everywhere. They were sitting in a half circle, facing an old urn. Some were bowing their heads, others were holding their broken sword hilts forward, as if in offering. One hollow to my right was facing the damp stone wall. I lowered my shield. Clearly, these hollows weren’t interested in me. I walked a few steps, then stopped. Standing at the edge of a steep cliff, I looked out into the dark water. I was at the precipice of the New Londo Ruins. The flooded city. Apparently flooded to contain the abyss and all it held within it. But now, after these years it’s stood dormant, I needed to drain the once bustling city. I walked down the only path I could see, passing groups of hollows, kicking each other, kicking the walls, praying to urns...typical hollow activities. The stone path soon ended, making way for a thin, wooden bridge. “Bridge” was being generous, all it was, was two long planks of wood with a single support beam disappearing into the water below. I was careful, moving slowly, stopping whenever I heard a creak. I made it across eventually, and I found myself standing in the remnants of a building. The floor was covered in a thin layer of water; I knew below the floor was a long drop. I moved quickly across, into a tower door.
         Lighting my torch, I felt a new sense of vulnerability as I had to strap my shield to my back. The dim light didn’t work like it should have, as if this place was cursed by the dark itself. The light revealed stairs going up. When I reached the top, I was ambushed by two hollows. The first grabbed me from my right side, pinning my sword against me. I whipped the torch against its head, and it recoiled. The second one put its hands on my shield from behind, and I jumped backwards, crushing it against a wall, simultaneously unsheathing my sword. The hollow I’d burned was still stunned; I got his eyes. I rushed forward and plunged my blade through its chest. It shrieked, and I ripped out my sword in a backwards arc, catching the second hollow in the head. It fell to its knees, and I kicked it to the ground to free my broadsword. Miserable hollows, I muttered.
         I soon reached a ladder. As I clambered up the slippery iron bars, I thought about the wolf I had slain before I ventured into New Londo. The Great Grey Wolf, Sif, of the Darkroot Garden. It was a long battle, Sif proved to be more than an ordinary wolf. Somehow, she seemed competent. Human-minded, almost, the way she fought. Perhaps due to the knight Artorias. An old legend tells of Sir Artorias, the abysswalker, sacrificing himself in order to stop Sif from being corrupted by the abyss. Maybe Sif was affected by the gesture. Either way, she bled like any other, and I now had the Covenant of Artorias. I could now venture into the abyss. I needed to, to destroy whatever plagued this once great city. When I reached the top of the ladder, I spotted some sort of crank. With this, I’d be able to open the floodgates. I laid the torch on top of the crank, and started pushing the lever. I made a few rotations, and then the colossal metal doors opened, letting the water rush out. I watched in amazement as a ruined city slowly took shape before my eyes. It was astonishing. But what was more astonishing, was the dozens of Darkwraiths that protruded from the lowering water. I recognised that I had a fight ahead, and I headed down the ladder.
         Dropping from a crumbling building, I hit the ground with a loud clank of my armour. Looking to my right, the huge floodgate doors were now open, revealing the Valley of Drakes just a few hundred metres away. I turned the other way; I still had business here. I eventually located a small tower, guarded by two Darkwraiths. I pulled out my longbow, and took a shot at one of them. He recoiled in pain as my arrow punctured his flimsy armour. Left leg hit. I knocked another arrow as the other Darkwraith charged at me. The arrow flew straight, ripping through the Darkwraiths hooded face. I drew my sword and advanced. The first Darkwraith freed the arrow from his leg, and stood ready. I raised my sword, took a step and brought it down, aiming for the head. The Darkwraith deflected my attack and retaliated with a spinning bash with the hilt of his sword. I was knocked back, spitting blood. I saw him bring his blade back, tucking it to his hip; a stabbing form. My shield arm twitched. The point of his blade shot forward, at my head. I quickly raised my shield at an angle, parrying his attack, and I followed up with a powerful lunge into his throat. He dropped his weapon and went down hard.
         Entering the tower, I cursed myself for leaving my torch. I could barely see my own feet. I could make out a winding stairway, going down, so I carefully started descending. Abruptly, the stairs stopped. All I could see was darkness below me. This is it, I thought. I’ve reached the abyss. I slipped on Artorias’ ring, allowing me to make the journey. I didn’t know quite how to start “the art of abysswalking,” but I knew I‘d have to drop. First, I kicked a pebble down. I winced when I didn’t hear a thing. But I had to. I needed to free this city of its curse. I held my breath, counted to three,
         And I jumped.