Author's Note: The following is a fan-based parody, TehDCat owns nothing but a drawing of… wat? Oh… TehDCat owns nothing. Dark Souls is property of FromSoftware, Namco Bandai and Gendo Ikari err… I meant Hidetaka Miyazaqi.
This is my first time writing a longer fic, so do not be fooled by the Edginess of my writing at times. This fic has been processed through the power of Forossan Crack! And we all know how those Forossans love their crack. F***ING STRONK! The powdered extract has to be filtrated 46 times in a technique known only by the legendary Alchemist Malter Might, and then bleached white with the blood of eager eyed new players.
Wait… blood can't be used to ble... arghhh…. *you died*
Leveling his blade, The Bearer of the Curse stared forward at the abomination before him. As he moved his body screeched in defiance, spilling Estus through its many cuts and his non-existent stamina bar dipped into the negatives. Still, he forced himself to act, moving to strike once more. After all, what was his injuries compared to the weight of his duties.
This was his final stretch, the last stop in his journey. This was the final fight. This was all that remained between salvation and destruction. Well… not really considering that the nature of his world was a cyclical one, but that was what he told himself to avoid curling up in a corner and crying till he went hollow.
Cold cackling met his challenge, as his foe stepped slowly towards him.
Nashandra, Queen of Want. The cause of Drangleic's ruin. Just looking at her drove the Undead Knight into a rage. Especially since her ridiculous spamming of Curse Fountains had depleted his already dwindling stock of Human effigies.
SERIOUSLY she wasn't that hard of an enemy, but those DAMN curse fountains! Every time he saw her health dip into its final quarter, she would punish his reckless melees with a… he paused his mental rant as he saw the status bar building up above his head once again.
"DON'T LOOK DOWN ON ME!"
With a defiant roar, The Bearer rushed towards the covetous Queen. With a forward slash, he brought his +10 Lightning Uchigatana down on the Abyssal creature, only to be flung back with a single backhanded strike.
His jaw shattered through the force of the stroke, and the folds of his helmet bent into his cheeks, tearing into the flesh within. With a heavy bang, he crashed deep into the ground of the arena.
Crippled by the blow, he could only watch as Nashandra pointed her skeletal fingers towards him.
But at the last possible second, a red blur slammed into the beam.
Before his astonished eyes, a massive red Knight stood in the way of Nashandra's attack. Two swords held in a cross guard dissipated the concentrated curse, but it was clear that damage was dealt. Armour melted apart, boiling flesh and blackening skin. The sickening tang of burnt flesh spewed into the air, even as the curses began to devour the knights flesh. The severity of the attack would have killed any other human. Yet still this one stood, with a defiant shout his saviour threw his blades forward flinging the curses back to their sender.
"VENGARL!" The Bearer screamed.
Jaw throbbing, The Bearer pulled himself to his feet and clambered through the billowing smoke. Desperately he dragged himself forward, till he reached the side of his wounded summon.
Ash crumbled of Vengarl's armour as warrior faced him, and the Undead could see straight through him from a gaping wound in his chest. Quickly, the Bearer of the curse searched for a healing spell to use, but found he lacked the specs to use any.
Thinking quickly, the Undead Knight reached for an emerald green flask, only to be stopped by the subject of his worry.
Though much of Vengarl's face was obscured by a Lion Masked helm, the Bearer could have sworn he saw amusement in the man's face.
"Why…" The Bearer spoke in a low tone.
"What a troublesome Host I have." Chuckling the mighty Forosan Warrior turned his glazed eyes to the ceiling, "All I ever knew was war, and could imagine no other way to live. I fought for whomever hired me, without ever knowing why. But you… you've changed that."
"This is a fight worth fighting for." Turning his eyes skyward, Vengarl's breaths grew pained. "I am grateful for these peaceful days, and the chance you've given me."
"Farewell. I will retire to my silence." Vengarl's powerful form went silent, his eyelids falling to a close. For an instant his body remained, before crumbling to ashes in The Bearers arms.
"Farewell…" The Bearer of the curse lowered his hands, adding one final whisper. "My… best friend."
At this declaration, Benhart of Jugo ceased his attempts at attacking the Undead Queen, a single man tear falling from his eyes. On instinct, a hand reached around his neck where a simple locket wound around his majestic facial hair.
Opening the locket, he stared wistfully at a picture of himself and the Bearer of the Curse. A finger slid over a caption on the cover, reading "Best Bro's Forever". Snapping shut the locket, he frowned beneath his facial fluff, fully succumbing to his tears.
Nashandra patted the warrior on the head, attempting to alleviate the man's betrayal, but this only served to strengthen Benhart's determination.
"Fel' Fiend eye shall vanquish yer fer the sake o' ma Partnah!" Slapping the Queen's hand away Benhart held his family's ancestral sword aloft. "Eye shall show yer da value o' Benhart's friendship!"
Falling into a combat stance, Benhart shouted at top of his lungs.
"BEHOLD! THIS TECHNIQUE HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN FROM THE BENHART LINE FOR 900 YEARS!"
Against the laws of gravity, the Bluemoon Knight floated up into the air. Shutting his eyes, the man clutched his Bluemoon Greatsword in both hands. For a second the world around them changed, and Nashandra could have sworn she saw a man mashing buttons on a controller while screaming the F word.
*LIMIT BREAK! OMNI SLASH*
As Benhart's eyes snapped open, he seemed to be everywhere at once. Repeatedly multiple Benharts slashed Nashandra from all directions, ferociously hammering her as he proclaimed his intentions to be the Bearer's Best Friend.
As Nashandra keeled back from the force of the attack, Benhart delivered a final crippling blow, dealing a grand total of 10pts of Damage.
"Well… dat was nothing." Benhart frowned, as he was immediately VAC banned for modifying Dark Soul's Code.
"Well that was weird…" Nashandra muttered, which was pretty difficult to do considering she didn't have a mouth in her current form.
" A!" Her thoughts on the break in canon was interrupted by a wrath fuelled cry from the Bearer.
Slowly walking towards her, he dramatically pointed his katana at her. "YOU KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!"
"Partnahh!" A cry of joy emitted from beyond the boundaries of their twisted reality.
"Not you!" The Bearer recoiled with obvious disgust. Coughing he turned to Nashandra, speaking with a gravelly tone of pure edge. "For the sake of my comrades! For the sake of the world! I will defeat you!"
With a flash of light, a second blade materialised in his hand. A ravenous aura emitted from the weapon, pure unadulterated bloodlust alongside the flicker of orange chaos filled fire.
Even with her lack of eyes, the Queen's eyes widened. "IS THAT?"
"The Chaos Blade, Makoto." Mirthlessly the Bearer uttered. "A cursed blade forged from the fires of chaos itself. A wound from this blade shall never heal, and it cannot be sheathed without tasting death. And today, its feeling especially hungry!"
"BUT HOW." Nashandra panicked. "THIS IS NEW GAME! YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN HAVE THAT!"
"Bonfire Ascetic."
"GOD DAMN YOU YUI TANIMURA!" Nashandra screamed.
In desperation Nashandra released her curse pools, looking to repel the Bearers advance. It was for nothing, for vengeance, even his humanity was worth sacrificing.
The curses ate as his body, crushing his vitality and ripping his skin into an undead green. Still he stood strong against the wailing storm. Explosions of dark rumbled around him, disorienting his hearing, but wrath sharpened his senses driving him foward.
He had almost reached her when she got lucky, and a blast of dark erupted beneath him. His legs were shredded to ribbon and he fell forward once more in an explosion of blood.
"HA HA HA! Even with the Chaos Blade you cannot beat me." Emboldened by her actions, Nashandra laughed at the fallen form of the Bearer of the curse. "Yes! The Chaos Blade is a weapon to be feared, but in the hands of men it is worthless!"
As Nashandra went on a stereotypical anime villain rant about the weakness of Man, The Bearer shakily propped himself on his blades. 'Damn… even with this power… Vengarl… bro it looks like I would be meeting you sooner than I thought…'
With his unoccupied hand, he raised his Estus flask to his lips. The last shot of the precious liquid, no more healing after this, no more chances in this fight. As the healing energy channelled to his body, his flesh knit itself back together. But he was far from total recovery, and his stamina was vastly depleted. He coughed once, clearing metallic blood from his lungs then narrowed his vision against the bellowing wind.
He gritted his teeth as he addressed the damage. He had survived only because of his friend's efforts. But it was He who was supposed to defend them, and he had failed where they needed him most. Lucatiel… Vengarl and well… basically just those too.
'Luca… Venny your efforts will not be in vain!'
FRIENDSHIP POWERS ACTIVATE!
For the briefest of seconds, his world went white. But as colour came in he almost wished it stayed so. Perhaps it was just his overworked brain, well he certainly hoped it was. Because if there really was a 40-year-old Japanese man was flying towards him while wearing a Magical girl outfit, he was not sure what he could do.
"What the f…." He was promptly hit on the head by the man.
"I am Hiro Mashima, the (objectively) Good Mangaka of the South." The man said as he curtsied. "Your bonds of friendship has summoned me! Now go forth for the sake of your Nakama, by THE POWER OF BULLSHIT POWERUPS!"
*CHENNNNNNNNNNNNN!*
Snapping back to the waking world, the Bearer rose to his feet. "For my comrades!"
Slamming his fist into the ground, a barricade of flame sprouted across the cavern stone. With a shriek Nashandra spun around with her scythe tearing through the fire, but the purpose of the flame had not been to kill her.
Obscured by the flame, Nashandra had not seen him till it was too late. With a powerful leap, the Bearer brought Makoto down on her. To her credit, Nashandra was quick to respond, blocking the attack with the body of scythe. Force met force, equalizing their exchange, but there was one thing the queen had forgotten. Smirking the Bearer of the curse, drew his second blade.
With a slash of his Uchigatana, skeletal fingers fell to the floor. In pain the Queen recoiled, and he pressed on the advantage.
Slipping into a power stance he swung his swords again and again. In a flurry of steel, he sliced through chitin and bone, tearing into the Queen before she mustered a counter attack. With overwhelming power, he split her Scythe in two, the through the opening bisected her arms.
For a second, he lowered his arms worn out by the exertion. Dust settled around him and he sheathed his blade for the final blow. Like the true Edgelord he was he waited for the final fatal second before unleashing the Makoto.
*SHINK*
His attack tore through the queen, cleaving her in two from the waist. With a baleful shriek, the top half of the Queen burst into lines of light. The lines spread further and further across her, until she became nothing more than a pillar of light. This light grew brighter and brighter until it burst out into a blinding wave of force.
The Bearer shut his eyes, feeling the powerful blast of wind rush towards him and his bosom swell from the influx of souls. They came with the sound of a gentle breeze, a caressing whisper, gentle and tranquil. He opened his eyes, shedding a tear.
Shadows fluttered down like black petals towards the him. They surrounded his form as though welcoming him, little black sprites dancing in exaltation of his accomplishment. The sight was awe inspiring and the bearer's hands drifted slowly to his chin.
He would no longer need his possessions as fuel for the flame. And it would be a shame for his equipment to share his fate, after all they had been through, surely some respite should be deserved. With a faint smile on his lip he undid the straps of his helmet. The mighty Faraam helmet had truly been tested through his use of it. The decorative carvings were all but destroyed, and the bright sliver gleam had turned to a blackened husk.
His helmet fell to his feet, freed from his features as he walked into the cloud. His gloves went next, letting him trail his bare fingers across the sea of souls. As the shades of humanity touched his body, the undead flesh morphed back into living tissue.
YOU DEFEA… Er… VICTORY ACHIEVED!
"I've done it… I have…"
Crystal blue eyes stared out from under a short blonde fringe, their rims sodden with tears. Clenching a fist in silent determination he strutted towards the throne completely ignoring the poor butt faced golems that formed the path to it… rude.
As he reached the chamber of the throne however, he was interrupted by the sound of clapping. Spinning around the Bearer felt his mouth drop to the ground.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING!"
With an expression as impassive as a rock, the Emerald herald stared at him with twinkling heterochromatic eyes. From her face alone, she seemed to be as stoic as always, but from bellow. Had her timing been more appropriate, The Bearer would have found himself blushing… then again WHEN WOULD IT EVER BE APPROPRIATE TO WEAR A 20TH CENTUARY APRON IN A MEDEVIAL DARK FANTASY SETTING.
Far away, in the deepest depths of Lordran… No! Not the Ringed City you moron! Yes… Australia… one could hear the sound of a controller snapping as Vaatividya was enraged by the break in LORE.
Ahem… back to the situation at hand the Bearer of the curse was trying his darnest to make sense of the situation. Yep, she defiantly was not wearing anything underneath that.
"Bearer of the curse, you have done well. Now would you like to light the fire, walk away, or perhaps… you want." The herald paused as a smile snaked along her face. "Me?"'
"Nope." The Bearer of the Curse turned away.
Dousing himself in gasoline the Bearer immediately set himself aflame. But not before flipping the throne off.
"F*** THIS! F*** ME! F*** ALL OF YOU! I AM DONE!"
*PICHUUUUNNNN*
As the flames consumed him the Chosen paused to address his ridiculous end. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT SOUND EFFECT! Fortunately for his remaining sanity, he did not have to think on it much longer as his world faded to black.
/ K/
"Eh…" A crack split through in the darkness.
Creak... The divide expanded further, tearing out the borders of his reality. Realizing what was happening the Bearer opened his mouth to protest. "NO!"
The light broke through in its entirety coloring his world a single florescent shade.
"NO! NO GOD PLEASE NO!" All semblances of joy taken from him, the bearer prayed to every deity he knew to save him. "DON'T TAKE ME BACK!"
"Do not fear!" A distorted utters, shattering the monotony of the empty world. As the voice echoes, the world around it takes shape, white is replaced with a velvet red and the Bearer finds himself standing on a stage.
The first thing the Bearer notices is the sounds of clapping and cheers. An audience of familiar faces are seated before him, their voices overwhelming him with varying phrases.
"VERY GOOD!"
"Well played! You showed that bish what for!"
"Hmmm…. Hmmm… quite the pickle indeed."
"PARTNAHHHHHHH!"
"Did you have to die 16 times though?"
"YOU LEVELED DEX!"
"Like this if you cry every time."
"The answer to the equation is NINE!"
The Bearer turned his eyes to the other audience members purposefully avoiding Benhart's incessant waving. How on earth did this crowd gather here? He recognised many faces amongst them. Saulden the crestfallen knight staring glumly at the stage, while Mauglin the Armorer booed at it. Creighton of Mirrah chatting on the phone while shouting 'Wot' at random intervals. Lenigrast the blacksmith whacking a sword to the rest of the audience's ire and…
"Vengarl…" The Bearer choked on his words.
"Yo… it's been a while hasn't it." The knight waved or at least he would have if he consisted of more than a disembodied head.
"It's been 5 minutes…" the Bearer deadpanned, he was starting to become numb to the surprises. "How are you alive?"
"Er… you do realise that summoned phantoms aren't our real bodies, right?"
"Oh…"
After coming to terms with his stupidity and flare for the dramatic, the Bearer of the Curse continued to question his situation. "But why are you here?! How are you here? Where is here?"
"Perhaps I can shed some light on that subject." eloquent and pronounced, the first voice he had heard shook throughout the chamber.
"Who said that?!" The Bearer bit his lips, eyes chasing across the room in a hunt for the speaker. "Show yourself!"
The speaker chuckles dryly at their efforts, "Why my boy, I'm right above you."
As he turned his head up, the Bearer let out a shout, then was immediately crushed by a truck load of Roses.
*Chhhhrrrr chrrrnnnnn deh*
"Whoops…" As the figure of a man in a long tailcoat is lowered down from the ceiling with wires, the familiar words of 'YOU DIED' flashed across the room.
Fortunately, there was a conveniently placed bonfire to the left of the stage which broke into a fit of coughs, before spitting the Bearer out.
Without missing a step, the man on the wires slowly wheeled himself towards the Bearer through painful screeching of his pully. Staring at this curious figure the Bearer of the Curse gave an exasperated sigh.
"And who are you supposed to be."
Though the figures face was obscured by a porcelain mask, his voice rang out with unfiltered snide as he introduced himself. "Why I am Tuxedo… err Marvellous Chester, the one and only!"
"Oi! That's my li…" Patches' complain was quickly silenced as Chester threw a rose into his head.
Continuing Chester tipped his top hat off "Host of this theatre!"
"Theatre?"
"Where else are people supposed to watch the failings of you protagonists and the other morons of our universe."
"WAIT! YOU MEAN YOU PEOPLE ACTUALLY WATCH MY SUFFERING FOR ENTERTAINMENT?!"
Brushing the idea off with a non-committed wave, Chester chuckled. "To be fair most of these people were suffering too, it's just that the ones here are aware of it."
"Take this idiot for example." As spotlight shone on a member of the audience, the Bearer had a heart attack and died again.
Sitting with his arms folded in a seat that was obviously too small for him was Raime, the Fume Knight. The 12-foot behemoth of a knight had a pair of headphones over his ears that was loudly blasting Linkin Park.
"CRAWLING IN MY SIN! THESE WOUNDS THEY WILL NOT…" The man sang along.
"The less said the better."
"So, all this… all this while, my life was a just a show… all this was just entertainment?"
"Well… actually it was more of a game."
*CRITICAL HIT*
The Bearer sunk to his knees and rolled into a ball, a cloud of darkness forming over his head. "It's all over... my life is over."
"On the contrary my friend!" Smirking at the Bearers Despair Marvelous Chester turned his face to the audience, with a tip of his hat and wave of his hand he proclaimed. "Your life is just beginning!"
"LADIES, GENTLEMEN, *sigh* gwyndolin AND ELDRICH ABOMINATIONS, WELCOME TO THE DARK SOULS THEATRE."