Chapter One: Escaping the Asylum

The torches illuminating the stone corridors of the Asylum flickered, highlighting the faces of lonely undead who had given up all hope of freedom. Other captives pounded on their prison cell doors, screaming for leave, under the false impression that this would aid their chances. Yet there was hope for some – five in fact – who inhabited the cell at the very end of the corridor.

"Do not fear," assured a young girl whilst getting to her feet, "A knight will provide us with the key to our cell soon." She gestured towards the ceiling, where a large tile had been previously removed. Natural sunlight poured in, highlighting the others' confused expressions.

"How can you be so sure?" asked a blonde man, his warrior armour rattling as he stood up.

"Sofia and I have played Dark Souls before...we just hope that this knowledge helps us get through the game in one piece," responded another girl.

As if on cue, a figure dropped an undead from the gap in the ceiling. The knight watched it hit the ground, nodded to Sofia when it impacted, and left silently. She approached the hollow, her eyes focused intently on the white orb hovering over its skinny pink body.

"This is its soul," she explained, kneeling beside it. "Sometimes items important to those who have died attach themselves to their soul – in this case it's the Dungeon Cell Key. We can pillage these souls and take their items." She put her hand into the white mist and took out a key, causing the soul to disappear.

"Brilliant!" exclaimed the warrior, looking at the key in awe. Sofia smiled at his reaction and walked over to the cage door, eager to leave the small room. She put the iron key into the rusty lock, which took a little force to turn, but soon opened out into the corridor. They stepped out the door, surveying the area for guards.

"Ugh...what it is that thing?" gagged the wanderer, Lon'qu, pointing to the right at an area behind bars.

"It looks powerful. I'm certain that club could break our bones with one swing," guessed a curly haired man, who didn't seem frightened of the beast, regardless of his statement.

"Shhh, you'll attract its attention!" whispered the second girl, her thief instincts coming into play, "Just ignore it and sneak past."

They continued up the corridor, avoiding the weeping undead as they did so. After a while they reached a tall ladder, which led them up to a small courtyard. The smell of fresh air was a wonderful relief to all of them. After they stretched their legs and enjoyed the atmosphere, they approached a large door leading to a large building. The door appeared to be heavy so all of them helped push it open, apart from the curly haired man named Sherlock, who claimed that he preferred to watch.

Silence pierced the cathedral-like room as the five humans entered. Surrounding them where high pillars and tall, yet fragile, vases. The thief, Emma, held her arm out to block her companion's paths and quickly examined the room. To the far left appeared to be a caged, locked door. To the north was a small semi-circular ledge and a door leading to an outside balcony. Doubtfully, she started edging towards the centre of the room. Engraved on the ground was a glowing red sign. She stared at it for a moment, attempting to identify it.

"It's a message," she called back to the others. "Remain there, I'll read it out." She crouched down besides the crimson sign – the only way to read them was to activate them through touch as they only responded to the flesh of humans and hollows.

–-"Get away!"–-

"Shit, run for the door!" Emma bolted to the left exit as a huge, fat, ugly beast soared from the skies. Its impact earth-quaked the ground and threw the rest of the travellers forwards as they forced their legs to sprint. The monster swung its hammer haphazardly in their direction – fortunately missing their bodies – but smashing most of the vases. As soon as Sherlocks' loincloth passed the gate, the portcullis fell again, locking the beast out. Its roars echoed down the damp corridor and gradually tapered off into the background as they ran down the stairs.

"That was that beast we saw earlier, wasn't it?!" Exclaimed the warrior, John, who was clearly in shock, "What is it?!"

"It's the Asylum Demon," explained Sofia solemnly. "It's not its name that should concern us though…"

"…It's how to defeat it." Finished Emma, nodding at her friend.

"Indeed," agreed Lon'qu as he motioned the rest of the group towards the unlit bonfire near them. "Sofia... would you do the honours?"

Sofia approached the bonfire, shut her eyes in concentration, and laid her right hand on the bonfire. A few seconds past as John and Sherlock raised their eyebrows at each other. Sparks burst out of her palms abruptly, surprising John, who took a large step back as he watched in amazement. The orange flames danced like snakes on her fingers and enveloped the sword, setting fire to it. "Done," she said smiling. "This bonfire is our rendezvous, as it were. Whenever we die, we respawn at the last bonfire rested at."

"Well, that's convenient..." said John quietly, swallowing hard. "Death is something I aim to avoid."

"We need to be careful from now on," added Emma. "Dying causes us to drop all the souls we collect from our fallen enemies. Individually, that is. For example, if I had 1000 souls and you had 2 souls and you died, you would only drop your 2 souls. I would still have mine," she sneered.

Sofia shifted uncomfortably, "it's not the end of the world though, John. When you drop your souls – however many you have – they remain where you were last killed. All you have to do is travel back to that location and recover them." John didn't seem very reassured, as the thought of death was still on his mind.

"Let me guess...Dying for a second time has a negative effect on those dropped souls. Perhaps they disappear permanently, never to be recovered?" deducted Sherlock thoughtfully.

"Unfortunately you are correct," replied Sofia.

"What's unfortunate? The fact that I am correct or that the fact that I made was correct?" smiled Sherlock sarcastically.

"...both," responded Sofia, turning away from Sherlock the deprived.

Lon'qu cleared his throat to break the silence. "I think we should rest and then press on... I don't like the atmosphere of these dungeons."

"I agree," admitted Emma, sitting down besides the lit fire. Sofia quickly joined her, as did John and Lon'qu. Sherlock on the other hand remained standing, examining the room and its dark stone walls.

"Won't you join us Sherlock?" John inquired, hoping to avoid any form of argument.

"I refuse to let my guard down and I certainly will not rest in an unknown environment in which I know little about. I aim to change that."

John smiled at Sofia apologetically. Sofia shook her head, relieving him of his apology.

"Sherlock, you do realise that when we rest at a bonfire, enemies can't attack us, right?" Sofia explained. "Any way, how about we move on?"

At this point, all they had was their armour (or in Sherlock's case, his loincloth) for protection and 5 Straight sword hilts, which frankly did very little damage.

"As Emma and I are aware of what's coming, I suggest we lead. John, stick behind me, then Lon'qu and finally... Sherlock," advised Sofia as they gathered.

"Lead the way," smiled John.

"To our left will be a long corridor of broken asylum cells. At the very end will be a hollow brandishing a pathetically weak bow, although at this stage, I guess we're all pretty weak also." Emma stated. "However if we take another left near the entrance, we will find a weapon and a shield for all of us, depending on our class."

"Ok... let's get this over with," replied Lon'qu as he peered round the corner of the door. An arrow whistled past his ear immediately, causing him to fall backwards in surprise. Emma offered him a hand and he hesitantly accepted it, dusting himself off embarrassedly as he got to his feet.

Sofia laughed and shook her head, "Follow my lead." She sprinted into the corridor and barrel rolled to the left, narrowly dodging an arrow, before entering the side room Emma spoke of. "It's not that far," she called to the others as she searched for her own equipment. Emma soon followed, cart-wheeling her way gracefully to the loot; possessing the light armour of a thief has its benefits. John followed in his warrior armour, which of course was much heavier, and as a consequence some of the undead's arrows lodged themselves into his breastplate. Sherlock, being the least equipped of the entire group, should have ran the fastest. Yet, due to his lack of fear of the archer, took his time getting there, showing off his dodging spins as he did so.

"As a pyromancer, I am best suited for this Hand Axe and this rather cracked Round Shield," explained Sofia whilst rummaging through the equipment hoard. "Emma, here is your Bandit's Knife and Target Shield. Lon'qu, as a member of the wanderer class you begin with the leather shield and Scimitar." Emma looked longingly at the curved sword as Sofia passed it into Lon'qu's hands. "Um, John... this Long sword and heater shield is yours. That shield can protect you against 100% damage, so use it copiously. Finally, Sherlock." She passed him the only equipment left: A wooden Club and a Plank Shield.

He paused momentarily, "What is this barbaric weaponry?" Emma lowered her head quickly to conceal her laughter but he saw her nonetheless. "No matter. I'm certain that I can deal more damage to our foes with this...primitive set of equipment... than the rest of you put together." He confirmed gloatingly. "I suggest we continue, before our enemies find us first."

Sofia sighed, a little irritated at the idea of taking orders from Sherlock, "Let's move on." She was intent on having the last word. "Emma...put that undead out for good," she smirked. Emma winked back at her mischievously and run into the corridor without a word. The others gathered and simultaneously peered around the corner in anticipation, as Emma sprinted towards the unexpecting archer, dodging his shots fluently. Once she was in range she used her small shield to bash his bow out of his grasp, stunting him for a second. She seized the opening, stabbing him straight in the heart with her dagger, finishing flawlessly with a kick and a wiping of its blood on her sleeve. "Finished," Emma turned proudly to face them. "Coast is clear," she called over as Sofia led them to her. The pyromancer prodded the undead with her foot, "Yup, he's definitely out for good."

Sofia continued up a flight of stairs to their left, stopping at a white mist blocking the way to the next area. "We must transverse the white light from here – sometimes bosses lurk behind them, but not behind this one." Passing through the mist was like walking through a cloud – it disappeared as soon as they had all entered.

"Hmm, so we're on the balcony of the cathedral, where that beast was," Lon'qu observed as he approached the ledge, "...wait a minute, where did it go? It's not there anymore!"

"It tends to do that," stated Emma darkly. John and Lon'qu shivered at the prospect of such a huge creature being able to disappear without a trace. Sofia led them down the path on the right and pointed at a set of stairs to their immediate left.

"At the very top of these stairs is a rather malicious undead. As soon as I climb up about halfway, he will throw down a huge cannonball in the hopes that he will kill me. I won't let him have that satisfaction. Now, all of you hide down the passageway so that it doesn't hit you instead." With that she ran up the steps, her dark grey-blue robes flowing behind her. Timing a perfect roll to the right allowed her to dodge the incoming sphere of metal and land on another flight of stairs to the right. Emma's applaud welcomed her back as she jogged over, bowing gracefully once she was beside them. All looked impressed apart from Sherlock, but that was to be expected – he was only ever impressed by his own achievements.

Instead he turned his attention to the huge crack in the brick wall behind them, caused by the cannonball's impact. "I wonder where this leads..." he murmured to himself curiously, forgetting the others' existence and proceeding inside, "Ah, a human!" This caught everyone's attention and they soon found themselves inside a small brick room, staring down at a man in knight armour. Sofia recognised him as the knight who helped them escape. He didn't seem to be in very good shape though and was sitting holding his stomach on the floor. She crouched down to face him, hoping to comfort him.

"Oh...you five...you're not hollow, eh?...Thank goodness..." he coughed, peering up at them. "I'm done for, I'm afraid."

"Wait, don't say that! I'm a doctor, let me help you," said John urgently.

"Thank you...but I'll die soon, then lose my sanity...there is little you can do in terms of saving me. Yet, I wish to ask something of you...You and I, we're all undead...Hear me out will you?"

"Of course!" replied Sofia instantly, hoping to find a way to repay the knight for his favour.

"Regrettably, I have failed in my mission...but perhaps you can all keep the torch lit...There is an old saying in my family...Thou who art undead, art chosen...In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords...When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know."

"I don't understand-" started John, but Sofia quickly interrupted him. "Of course, sir knight. We wish to repay you for your gracious act of saving us from our Asylum cell, in any way possible. Thank you dearly." John nodded in agreement, smiling at their saviour in appreciation.

"...Well, now you know...and I can die with hope in my heart...Oh, one more thing...Here, take these..." He passed 5 green bottles to Sofia, each filled with a glowing orange liquid. "Estus Flasks, Undead favourites. Oh...and this..." From his satchel he took out a key and gave it to John, who was now crouched down next to Sofia, "It's the Key to the second floor..."

"Thank you, Knight," imparted Emma, thinking it was about time she expressed her gratitude. Lon'qu also thanked him, but Sherlock simply observed the knight's armour in silence.

"...Now I must bid you farewell...I would hate to harm you after death...So, go now... and thank you." He turned his face away from them as his life left him. Out of respect, John shut the knight's eye lids and nodded to the others, as a sign suggesting their departing.

Once they were outside, Sherlock mumbled to himself, "Now that he's gone, surely I could put his armour to good use. He's hardy going to need it any more..."

"Sherlock!" screamed John and Sofia simultaneously.

"What? Oh, it's disrespectful? Hmph, fine...but if I die due to a lack of equipment, I blame you both."

Emma ignored their confrontation and started walking up the steps to the undead, expecting the others to follow her. The sounds of pain alerted them to her disappearance and the source of the screams was soon made evident when a pink corpse rolled down the stairs.

"Are you coming, or what?" she asked, a little irritated. Sofia nodded wearily, aware of Emma's power, even at this stage. The two were best friends but making her angry was never a good idea; especially to living creatures that weren't allied with her. They exited onto a balcony harbouring three undead: two dagger wielders and an archer.

"John, focus on the bow wielder!" commanded Sofia, "Lon'qu, stab the one on the left…Sherlock prove your worth to that weakling on the right. Emma…er...you know what to do…" Sofia was suggesting the thief's signature parry and riposte move, but that wasn't quite what she witnessed. Instead, Emma sneaked around the oblivious hollow, who was staring attentively at Lon'qu's weapon. She pounced onto his back, slicing his throat with her knife before he toppled to the ground. Sofia opened her mouth to comment on this brutal attack form but was interrupted by a deep uncivilised sound. Turning to investigate she discovered it was Sherlock.

"Face my club, you sickly excuse for a soul bearer!" he yelled charging at the frightened undead, who dropped his weapon and ran for his life. John was just returning from his triumphant battle when Sherlock's prey knocked him off his feet in its panic. He just managed to catch a glimpse of it soaring off the balcony in an attempted suicide when Sofia helped him recover his balance.

"Thanks," he smiled shyly at her.

"No problem," she replied happily, taking the liberty of dusting down his armour.

"I...Er...well...he's gone...the archer, I mean...not the other Undead...although it looks like he's also gone...ha..." he stammered, a little embarrassed at his loss of words.

"I'm sorry, I missed the fight," she sighed apologetically, "I was distracted by Emma and Sherlocks' unique fighting techniques...they really are something," she continued awkwardly. "Anyway... I'm just glad you're all right, John." she felt her cheeks blush as she uttered his name. "I...better check on the others..."

John watched her shuffle back to Emma, his heart beat slowing down as she left him. Weirdly, he felt lonely when he wasn't in her presence, but he shook away the thought, deciding that they had more pressing matters to attend to. They were soon gathered together, assessing their progress thus far.

"We have 5 Estus Flasks in total," informed Emma. "They restore a portion of the drinker's health, allowing them to last longer in a battle. John, you look a little worn out; drink one."

He glanced briefly at Sofia, feeling a little guilty at the idea of using up one of their precious resources.

"I'll be fine," he insisted, pushing the flask back into Emma's hand. She studied his expression for a second, and then continued with her briefing, "At this point, we have enough flasks for one each."

"Of course, if a person has already used up their flask, but is in desperate need of another, someone can always sacrifice theirs to aid him...uh...them," Sofia added quickly, catching John's eye.

"Right," agreed Emma. "As you can see, behind me is another white mist wall. It leads to a very small balcony in the cathedral. The Asylum Demon will be beneath us when we transverse it…"

"Of course he had to re-appear…" grumbled Lon'qu to himself.

Emma sighed, deciding it was about time to tell them all a hard truth. "This game is not a fair one," she began. "The bosses inhabiting Lordran will chew you up and spit you out over and over again, killing you brutally at every turn, unless we all work together to wipe them out. They may be extremely difficult or frustrating or appear to have crawled out of the depths of hell, but they don't re-spawn after they're defeated. Now the Asylum Demon is the weakest of all the bosses. That's not to say that he isn't a pain in the arse, mind you. We must devise a strategy to eliminate him; remember it's five against one." She examined the group to see whether they understood. "Good," she confirmed. "Now, as I was saying previously, the Asylum Demon will be beneath us when we transverse the mist. What I am proposing is that Lon'qu, John and I perform a plunge attack on it using our weapons…"

"What's wrong with my weapon?" blurted out Sherlock, obviously offended.

"Sherlock, physics. Think about it," explained Sofia bluntly.

He stared at his wooden club, refusing to accept the implications. "I will make it work," he whispered forebodingly.

"Whatever you say," retorted Emma, rolling her eyes. "Moving on…Sofia, once we've performed the plunge attack, I suggest you get your pyromancy flame at hand and remain on the ledge, firing fire balls from above. After three-"

"Four," corrected Sherlock.

"…three successful plunge attacks," continued Emma, "and a rain of fire, he should perish."

"Sounds like a plan. I'm ready," indicated Lon'qu, unsheathing his scimitar. John and Sofia nodded in agreement. Sherlock shook his head in disagreement. They lined up at the mist, Sherlock pushing to the front, brandishing his club.

Emma held her head up high, shaking her dark blonde hair out of her face. "On the count of three; we need the element of surprise for this to work. One…Two—" Sherlock roared forwards, disappearing into the mist, "Three," she sighed.

A squelch, followed by a disgruntled snort vibrated the glass windows as they entered. Below the semi-circular ledge was an odd sight: Sherlock gripping the end of his club, which was lodged deeply into one of the demon's eyes. It was evident that he couldn't last in this position for long, especially as his loincloth had started falling. Realising this fact he dropped to the ground and admired his achievement for a split second before being whacked by the beast's own club. The collision sent him flying into the vases and the sound of his impact concealed John's gasp. This woke the dazed observers who remembered that they weren't there to watch.

A dark shadow loomed over them. Unfortunately it was too late to execute their plan as their ledge no longer existed. The monster had soared above them whilst they were distracted and obliterated their platform with his fat weapon, hurtling them towards the stone floor. Sofia managed to grab John's hand and guide him into a roll as they landed. Lon'qu attempted to counter-attack, but missed completely due to the searing pain in his left shoulder, causing him to tumble to the ground. Luckily the fall wasn't great, so it did him little damage. However his shoulder was bleeding rapidly. He bit his lip as he stumbled for his Estus flask, his arms weakening from the pain.

"Em…Emma…." He strained, his vision failing. He could make out blurred shapes, but they were moving too quickly for him to concentrate on them. A robed figure…Sofia, next to…John? Too far…too far away. They hadn't noticed him. "Emm…" his head dropped back as he crumpled onto the hard, cold floor. Black.

A touch. A soft touch rejuvenated him. Warm hands propped him up and kind whispers filled his ears. Then a sweet juice met his tongue. Immediately, as if by magic, strength filled his being and the pain in his shoulder vanished. He opened his eyes and blinked the bright light out as he focused on his surroundings. Emma was smiling down at him and Sofia and John knelt next to her. Even Sherlock was watching him.

"I…thank you," he said earnestly, observing his healed shoulder. "Wait! The beast! The-"

"Shhh….Don't worry about it," comforted Emma, "It's been taken care of."

He searched the room for its corpse but instead found its limbs burnt black and neatly stuffed into the remaining vases.

"Wow," he breathed, laughing a little at their creativity, "Impressive." With Emma's help he got to his feet and stretched out his perfectly healed limbs. Surveying the others he noticed only minor scratches and bruises, nothing major. Sherlock was spotless – he must have also been healed, he thought.

"How do you feel?" asked Sofia, studying his shoulder.

"Fantastic," he grinned. "So...where's the exit?"

"Just through those doors."

They all eagerly prised the doors apart, hoping to rid themselves of the asylum as soon as possible. The blinding sun shone splendidly as they stepped out onto a cliff ledge. Pale stone bricks littered the area around small patches of grass which sprouted here and there on the ground. Sherlock studied the rigidity of the cliff whilst the others admired the glorious view. Below were lakes and mountains and cliffs and forests; wonders that awaited them. They strolled to the tip of the cliff, taking in the sight.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" said Sofia suddenly. "Do not be alarmed, but our mode of transport to Lordran is a-"

A mass of black feathers burst into view and sharp talons gently surrounded Sofia, lifting her ever so slightly. Sofia grabbed John's hand who simultaneously grabbed Sherlock's loincloth. Disgusted at his impulse he let go and instead found Sherlock's curly locks. Sherlock grunted in disapproval, but held on to John's legs tightly, so as not to fall to his death. Meanwhile Emma and Lon'qu had comfortably secured themselves onto the crow's other foot and before long they were all soaring over the beauty that they had been admiring just moments ago.

To Lordran, dear travellers. May you follow your fate and fulfil your destiny.