Dark Souls Prologue: Let the journey begin...

 A long long time ago in a galaxy far far away...

Shit, wait, wrong beginning.

In the age of ancients, there was only endless forests, tranquility, and ever-lasting Dragons.

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle; The lion sleeps tonight..."

These Dragons were ageless; They owned the land without any threat or any chance of extinction. To them, life was beautiful.

I wouldn't wanna piss off something that breathes fire for a living.

But then, there was fire, and with fire disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course, light and dark.

Biggest. Fire place ever. Someone get the S'mores.

 From the dark the beginnings of Gods and Lords. Within the flame they found Lord souls. From there, four beings emerged...

Nito. the first of the dead.

The Witch of Izalith, and her and her daughters of Chaos.

Not shown: Her son.

And Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, along with his army of faithful knights.

But there is a fifth.

The furtive Pygmy. So easily forgotten...

With their new found strength and numbers, they challenged the rule of the Dragons. Winner, becomes new ruler of the lands.

Gwyn's mighty Thunder bolts peeled apart their stone scales.

"Ima firin' mai...Lightning spear?!"

 The witches waved great firestorms.

Must be that time of the month.

Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease.

Your average flu shot ain't gonna save your ass now.

And Seath the Scaleless, betrayed his own. And the Dragons, after centuries of rule, were no more.

Mr. Scaleless is not very photo-friendly.

Thus began what was known, as "The age of Fire."

The city of Lordrain was built, with the town of Anor Londo over-looking the vast landscape. All now in the hands of the lords.

Sure it's nice, but the cost of living must be a bitch.

Soon the very flames that created the Lords, start to fade. And darkness remains.

Only embers exist of the once great flames, and only endless nights are seen.

You know your screwed when your grasping at embers.

And amongst the living, are odd symbols: The accursed darksign. A symbol that slowly drives it's victim mad. One day, the person, living or undead, will lose his or her humanity, and their mind.

"Preparation H," stat!

Those brandished with the sign are corralled to the North, where they are locked up to await the end of the world.

Sucks to be that guy. Oh wait...

 This is where the journey of Chantalle the Cleric begins. Locked away in a dungeon cell, awaiting her end. This seems to be her fate.

Or is it?

You dropped in at the right time.

 Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome, to Dark Souls.

Prologue 2.