Chapter 1: A (Shit)Storm of Swords and Plunging Attacks

In an Asylum we have all heard of by now, in a cell we've all spawned in, there was a dude. He wanted to say he was huge, brutish and brave, but he was actually impulsive, angry and annoyingly cheerful. And, in the biggest plot twist ever, he was all that but not French.

Said dude was actually rather strong due to his marvelous 40 strength, and almost equally flexible at a whopping 35 dex. With his 50 endurance and 40 vitality, he was clearly rocking a PvP build capped at 130. However, in the second biggest plot twist ever, he also had a buddy with him in his cell. Said buddy was much bigger than the dude, standing at nearly seven feet, while the dude was around six feet. They were best buddies, and they were currently playing cards.

And they were also more confused than a bird that had just flown into a window. Because they were in a game they both knew, and that game was Dark Souls. Suddenly, the first mentioned dude realised this, and he jumped up.

"Holy shit, man! We're in Dark Souls!"

The bigger dude just sat there. "Ye?"

The smaller dude slumped slightly, dissapointed at the lack of reaction from his buddy. The buddy continued. "We've been for like, five minutes? Did you seriously not think about it till now? You should've invested in some Intelligence, dude."

"Oh, like you have?" The dude laughed loudly. "You're rocking that 60 strength, and what, 50 vitality? It's almost like you wanted to one-hand something huuuge!"

The bigger friend looked at his smaller friend, and raised an eyebrow. "I need all that strength dearly. Nightly activites are costly for my stamina."

The smaller friend, not allowing himself to laugh at such an innapropriate joke, retorted: "Then you should have invested in some endurance, dumbass."

"What's the point when you don't get tired out anyway?" He put away his cards and flexed his bicep. It was really huge, and clearly not full of steroids at all.

"Watch it man," the smaller friend said, keeping his smile covered under his thief mask. "You might pop that vein you stick syringes into every week."

The bigger friend snickered, and picked up his cards again. "It's a shame your wrist isn't half as quick as your mouth."

The smaller friend smiled slightly, but didn't give his buddy the last word: "Some people want to think fast too, you know, rather than work it fast."

They sat in silence for a while, before the smaller friend continued again. "Man over-board! Now let's get outta here, shall we?"

"Agreed." The bigger friend rose, and pulled the rusty door to their cell off its hinges, before tossing it to his buddy. He barely caught it in time, and slammed it on the floor. "LET'S GO, MOTHERFUCKERS!" The bigger friend didn't reach reacting before his buddy sprinted past him and murdered all the hollows in the next room. That is, until he noticed the big-ass demon which was patrolling beside him. Literally, the demon had a huge ass, and the only thing separating it from him were a few broken steel bars. Yeah… yeah. He decided to be more cautious.

They quickly made it through the Asylum, before they encountered their very first bonfire. The smaller friend turned to his bigger friend, smirking wide. "You remember the relief we felt when we encountered these in-game, eh?"

"Yeah. I imagine it will feel even better now that we're in here."

"Speaking of, do you miss home?"

"What the fuck is home?"

"NO IDEA. Let's kill an Asylum Demon!"

The bigger friend haulted him. "Wait." The smaller friend turned, and biggie continued: "I have two things to say… no, three actually."

"What?"

"First, and most importantly, I have to piss."

"HA-…"

"Second, I don't remember my name, and I doubt you do either."

"Oh shit."

"Third, maybe we shouldn't kill the Asylum Demon."

"What?!"

"LISTEN! If we kill the Demon, maybe Oscar will die before we reach him. We always discussed that if we could make our own choices, we would always start Dark Souls by helping Oscar." The smaller friend nodded slowly. "Yeah… why doesn't that idiot just drink some Estus anyway? Then he wouldn't need that dramatic speech crap that he pulls."

The bigger friend shrugged. "Maybe he wants to go out with a bang… or rather, a whisper."

"Nah, he talks about all that shit he wanted to do and ring the bells and herp derp, DEAD. He's just senile and forgot he had Estus in his back pocket."

"You know, I'm starting to think teenagers like us don't belong in Souls."

"I disagree. Just because we're aware of when we can save ourselves and when we cant-…" The bigger friend cut him off. "That's not what I'm-…" He couldn't help but laugh for a second. "What I mean, is that we are in the middle of insecurity, depression and angst. Don't you kinda need a clear head when playing Souls?"

"Eh. I finished the games multiple times when I was bullied by that handball-guy, remember? The one that ended up with a broken nose?"

"Yeah. Felix did him in good."

"We called him Z-Nose if I remember correctly, due to the strange way his nose looked when staring at him directly!"

They both laughed. Amidst all the laughter, one could hear the larger friend trying to form a stuttering sentence. When they were finished, he finally did: "How do we remember THAT, but not our own names." This almost triggered another wave of laughter around the bonfire.

The smaller one pulled himself together, and said: "We should give ourselves names man! We can be called anything now, so we should give ourselves something sweet and badass!" The bigger one started thinking: "Hmmm… I've always wanted to be called Cedric. I think it's a really balanced and elegant name."

"Unlike yourself, you mean?"

"Ha-ha."

The smaller friend thought. "Now what about me? I want my name to be unique, like Cedric for example. A name that you don't encounter much around here."

"John? Chester? Peter? Osc-…"

"Shut it, too generic! What about... no, too masuline. Maybe… nah, too feminine again…" And so he sat for a while. The bigger du-… Cedric I mean, tried to think as well, but couldn't find any fitting names.

"You're too unique, man! You're unnameable!"

"Meh. Until we figure out something better, I'm gonna call myself Diesel."

Cedric burst into laughter. "Diesel? What could possibly be more masculine than Diesel?" The smaller friend spread his arms in submission. "I don't know man! It just fits me, I think…"

"Yeah, you always were so cheap."

"Oh, shut up."

Diesel rose, and looked to the door. "Okay, so now that we have settled that…" He looked back to his friend. "Speed-run the Asylum?"

"Wow, that's unfair. Why did I have to have the knight as starting class? You're thief, so you have much lighter gear."

"You have 60 endurance. And I do believe I see Havel's ring on your finger there. You can run just as quick as me." Cedric looked down. "Oh shit."

Diesel started walking. "So let's go then!" And then he set off into a run… before colliding head-first with the still-closed door to the courtyard. Cedric passed him, bursted through the door with his heavier frame, and sprinted towards the door which led past the Asylum Demon.

But then he stopped. "Wait a minute." He turned around, not bothering about the huge, green and slobbering creature which landed maybe five or six meters away. "I can just tear off the door in the bonfire room." He didn't even reach taking a step before Diesel sprinted past him though, so he simply stood there dumbfounded.

Uhm, he thought. Oh yeah. Asylum Demon. Without breaking a sweat, he spun on his heel and caught the incoming hammer in both hands. "YOUR 40 STRENGTH IS NOTHING TO ME DEMON!" he shouted dramatically, before tearing the hammer into his own hands. The hammer immediately shrinked into comfortable size for his hands, and he swung the giant thing around, smacking the demon in the face.

…

In the meantime, Diesel was already halfway through the Asylum, having already picked up his expected Target Shield and Bandit's Knife. He was now backstabbing that annoying bow-wielding Hollow, as he had dreamt of doing so many times. Him, and the fucking Silver Knight Greatarchers in Anor Londo. They could all burn in Hell… Or Izalith. Actually, both.

Anyway, he didn't care much about the Hollow, but rather about Oscar. He looked through the bars to his room, but due to the game's engine now inheriting realistic lighting, he couldn't see shit in there. The light which usually shone on Oscar was nowhere to be seen. Strange.

He continued up to the boulder-rolling Hollow, and immediately rolled to the side when he saw the big black ball coming. He regretted it even more immediately though, as the rolling animation wasn't as smooth in real life as in the game. Therefore, he landed hard on his ribs on the stairs below, clenching his teeth as he did.

"FUCKING FUCK. GRAVITY, FUCK EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU!" He rose, and looked at the Hollow above him. "Just you wait, asshole." He then entered the room where Oscar was… Or rather, was supposed to be. Because the room was empty. The Asylum Demon hadn't gotten around to smashing him through the roof yet, apparently.

Diesel smacked himself in the face, facepalming harder than he'd ever done. "Of course! He's supposed to drop the corpse into our cell! And since we weren't there, he must've taken another route." He looked around. "Well, wherever you are Oscar, I hope you got out safe. Because this place is fucking HUGE, and there's no way I'm looking for you!"

…

MAN, it feels good to smack this bugger around!

Cedric was close to breaking into a fit of happiness as he continously knocked the Asylum Demon on its fat ass. He had dreamt of breaking the game's rules since the very first time he got squased by this fucker. You know, back when he didn't know about the door to safety… which he later noticed had two torches around it to basically tell him: "THIS WAY YOU NOOB."

He was starting to get bored of smacking the Demon around like an oversized golf ball though, so he decided to end it by swiping its feet away under it before smashing its head into the rubble. The Demon's death animation played out, accompanied by its dying… burp?... before it deteriorated into souls.

"Meh. My stats are good."

He has ever since wondered how the fuck he managed to catch a hammer, which weighed more than a freight train, in his bare hands. He always came to the same conclusion though: he's just a fucking beast.

…

Soon the two friends were standing on the edge of the Undead Asylum's mountaintop, overlooking the other mountaintops around them. Reminded them of their trip to Norway when they were young. The snowcaps shone to them in a brilliant light, as they heard the beating of wings closing in. They closed their eyes, held hands, and prepared to be carried away in a giant raven's claws.

They waited… And waited.

Then the smaller one opened his eyes, and pulled down his mask.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS IT."

Then the raven flew by them, headed away from the Asylum. In its claws they could barely make out the shape of a man in Elite Knight armor. He seemed to notice them, and they believed they saw him wave at them.

"… Fucking Oscar. We should have just let him die."

They were so pissed off, that they forgot that they were still holding hands. Oscar, however, didn't.