Isekai'd, My Posterior!
Think I need to state this before we continue, because some people that are incredibly self-centered (HELLO GUEST READERS!!!) seem to think every insult, derogatory thought and mean incentive spouted out by William, or otherwise, in this fic is directed toward them.
Fun Fact: this is a parody that is crass, stupid and at some points, pretty funny. Just because I write out something that is offensive in the story does not mean I am insulting YOU. Geez, you think you're that important that I would waste my day making fun of someone I don't care about, never mind the fact that I don't even know who hell you are? If you feel that you're getting riled up by something that is entirely for shits and giggles, guess what? You have the option to stop reading. I know. Brilliant… am I right?
Haaa… Now that I've pointed out the obvious, please enjoy this chapter. I've extended the word count since I didn't post anything yesterday.
"It's nice to meet another undead after much time in lesser company. Even more of joyous to see two in my midst." Solaire tilted his head to the side and crinkled his eyes, indicating he had something of smile going on behind his head covering. "Oh well, the more the jollier!"
He held out his large hand and William grasped it firmly, noting the subtle warmth bleeding into his heart as an unintentional smirk overcame his face.
"I am Solaire of Astora, Adherent of the Lord of Sunlight." He mentioned his title so casually that it was difficult not to swoon for the knight. Did he forget to mention how weak in the knees he was suddenly feeling all of a sudden? Was that normal when encountering the ultimate Alpha of the pack?
"Ah! Never did I think I would come across a fellow countryman." Oscar voiced and Solaire released his grip on William to outstretch his arms. Oscar copied the gesture and the Thief watched as the two of them stood four feet apart before clapping their hands, stomping their left feet, taking a step back and slamming their hands to their sides, with a clinking of armor. The undead had a moment to blink and try to figure out what in the name of Pete was going on, when suddenly the two knights stomped their right feet, took a step forward and locked hands as if they were about to arm-wrestle.
"Hail Astora." Both said in unison before bowing their heads and disengaging from the odd salute. William just stared at them dumbly as he fanboyed to himself. That was an awesome greeting.
Solaire clapped his heels together before raising his arms skyward as a beam of brilliant light shone over him like he was in a play on Broadway. The undead stared up at the sky as if whatever god watching had opened the clouds for this very moment because of how magnificent this broad Adonis standing before them was.
"And praise the Sun." the knight said eloquently. William scrambled up to copy the stance.
"PRAISE THE SUN!" he screamed, prompting Solaire to turn to him and chuckle softly, eliciting a rosy blush to form on the bridge of his nose as the silver-haired undead looked away shyly. Oscar merely frowned at the two of them as he lifted his visor.
"I didn't know you followed the same faith as Solaire's."
"Oh, I don't." the undead confessed with a shrug. "But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate it."
"Right you are, dear William." The Sun Knight nodded at him sagely, and William felt another surge of that warmth he had felt before. Seriously, he was starting to get addicted to this feeling. "Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to meet another Astorian, Knight…"
"Oscar," the undead picked up without missing a beat, "Oscar Swales."
William made a surprised face. He had forgotten to ask the knight his surname. How nice to know it was unique.
"And what brings the two of you to the Land of Ancient Lords? Site seeing after undeath?"
"Pfft," William huffed, "I wish."
"William and I arrived in Lordran after escaping the Northern Undead Asylum." Oscar replied happily, you could see that finding someone from his homeland was having a positive effect on his spirits. William cupped his chin in thought as the knight regaled Solaire of their journey thus far. If he remembered correctly, the kingdom of Astora had been destroyed by an enigmatic beast long ago. Said monster had been sealed into a cursed ring later on but at the cost of almost all the lives living with Astora itself. If that strand of knowledge was actually true, and Astora was nothing but a distant memory to the world, how had Oscar fared throughout his time as an undead, imprisoned within the Asylum knowing he had no home to return to?
It took a moment, but it dawned on him that perhaps Oscar had only decided to take up the Undead Quest linked to his extinct family history because he was homeless, alone and a drifter. Which meant that if Astora hadn't been destroyed, Oscar wouldn't have found the need to venture into the North – therein meaning that the Chosen Undead would never have been freed from their prison, meaning William wouldn't have been able to be free of the Asylum.
He staggered back a step at the revelation. Perhaps he owed more to the bumbling knight than he originally thought…
" Ah, so the two of you are the Chosen undead I've heard so much about lately." Solaire chirped and laughed, causing the Thief to break out of his stupor and listen to the conversation.
"Wait, you know about us?" he asked and received a nod. William and Oscar shared a frown. "How?"
The Sun Knight placed a finger against the side of his head, either pointing to his head or his ear. "Word travels around here fast, despite the fluctuations in time and age. Rumors first arrived of the two of you after a summoned phantom watched a 'peculiar' undead do battle with a great fowl in Firelink Shrine." Solaire quoted the description of William with a bend of his index fingers. "Thereafter, I received word from the grapevine that a pair of undead matching the description of the Chosen Undead had swindled the wares from a near-hollow merchant. Needless to say, talk about newcomers comes in rather quickly these days."
William deadpanned. Grapevine, his ass. People were probably too bored with their lackluster lives around this miserable dump that they probably put in their lots every time a green-faced undead got dropped into the dying death trap of Lordran by that cocky oversized rooster Velka kept sending to the Asylum. That dirtbag Cresty was probably secretly throwing in his souls to bet on their untimely hollowing too. Damn hypocrite, so much for sitting and waiting for the world to end. What's more, what was that bullshit about him ripping off Goby? It was a fair trade! Well, at least in his opinion.
"To think that the two of you and I would meet, however. Hah! How the Sun shines brightly on our destiny's today." The extraordinarily exuberant undead chuckled heartily as he placed his hands on his hips. Oscar laughed with him whilst William smiled bitterly. He didn't have the heart to tell the charismatic fellow that the sun he trusted in so blindly was fake… or that his destiny was to either die at the hand of the Chosen Undead or be left wanting as he aides the Chosen Undead in killing Gwyn.
"Uh, never mind all that fanfare," the Thief said quickly and took a breath. It was about time they got back on track with work anyways. "would you mind accompanying us?"
"Come now, William," Oscar retorted, "you know we can't ask another to risk their lives on the perilous journey we tread."
William bit back the counter that it was only him facing all these perils he spoke of.
"Actually," Solaire cut in, "I live for danger and suicidal quests. If you need a hand, I'll offer both of mine anytime."
The Thief felt like turning gay that very moment. Solaire was such a beautiful creature.
"But are you sure?" Oscar asked sincerely. "We wouldn't want to derail you from your own agenda."
"My only goal is to find my very own sun. Since Fate brought us together, perhaps travelling with you for a short while will lead me closer to that goal." He replied optimistically. It was quite infectious.
"Well in that case, how about helping Oscar get to the other side of this bridge?" William pointed toward the stairway they had come from, the throaty groan of the Hellkite Drake following soon after. "We're heading toward the Bell of Awakening on that Belfry in the distance," he said and pointed to the silhouette of the tower a distance away, "it would be an inconvenience if we were delayed by a territorial lizard."
"Wait, where is it you plan on going then?" the less heroic of the Astorian's piped up as they approached the impressive bridge bathed in a mix of oil, 3rd degree burns, and the smoldering corpses of hollows strewn about the place.
"Through door number one." William replied, pointing to the rickety wall of wood to their right. "Whilst you head up toward the other bell, I need to do some recon, possibly discover some new passageways we can use in the future."
The Astorian gave him a worried look, almost like a toddler scared to stray away from the adult he was currently clinging to. William shook the feeling of parenthood off violently with a roll of his shoulders. He was too young to be thinking about stuff like that in his first year of undeath.
"Don't worry your procrastinating head. I'll be back before you reach the top of the Belfry. If you reach the top of the Belfry…"
"Sorry William, I didn't hear you that clearly. What was that last par-"
"Nothing at all! Gottagobye!" the undead exclaimed quickly before taking a step back, turning toward the moldy door next to him and giving it a strong boot. The foot cracked through the thick wood as he kicked next to the door lock, and he smiled as it swung open before he raced through it and immediately descended down the splintered ladder ten meters away.
Oscar and Solaire stared at the space their undead friend had been not even a few seconds ago before they turned back toward the beaten path, gazes locked onto the snarling drake ahead.
"So, how are we going to get rid ourselves of that disturbance?" Oscar leveled the question at Solaire bluntly, causing the Sun Knight to chuckle and place a hand on the hilt of his sword as he strolled past his countryman.
"We're going to walk straight through, of course."
"B-But…" Oscar stammered as he caught up with the knight, dropping his visor and withdrawing his shield as an extra measure. He didn't mean to be rude, but was Solaire insane? Whilst drakes were few and far between, everyone who head read the old tales knew of the danger posed by the ones that stood before them. Oscar looked up once more, saw the crimson scales on the titanic lizard glimmer in the light, heard how its steel-tipped claws clacked threateningly against the stone barricades above them, smelt the toxic fumes that emanated from its toothy cavern of fangs the length of his entire body.
It was a colossal monster and Solaire wanted to walk directly under it? The younger Astorian began to quiver at the thought of dying an unspeakable death but followed anyway. It wasn't like he could just abandon the quest and leave the world to be damned to destruction. Whatever would William say?
They got closer to the drake, and it snarled harshly, thick globules of saliva dripping from the corners of its maw. William was right, this thing was terribly territorial! How ever were they to get across without it opening its mouth and just turning them into humanoid torche-
"Ah, this seems like a fair distance." Solaire suddenly spoke, causing Oscar to peer at him uncertainly.
"The… right distance for what exactly?" he asked quietly, voice barely a squeak.
"Why, for a commonplace to be reached of course." The Sun Knight answered simply. Oscar just looked at him as if he had grown a second head.
"H-H-H-How are we going to r-reach common ground with that thing?!"
"Faith in the Sun and Jolly Co-Operation!"
Oscar went to say that none of that made any sense when a tall shadow descended upon both of them. Oscar gulped thickly as the Hellkite Drake sneered down at them, snout mere inches away from prodding Solaire in the chest. The older Astorian calmly looked up at the beast before he started to speak.
"Why, hello there. I am Solaire of Astora. Adherent of the Lord of Sun-"
"HHNGGHHRRR!" the drake roared in their faces, splashing quite a lot of thick spit against their bodies as the sound caused a shrill ring to echo into their ears.
"-light." Solaire finished when the roar had ended. The drake glared down impassively. Still, the undead continued. "I was wondering if we could resolve this little matter peacefully. If you could just allow us passage through that-"
"HHNGGHHR- ulgh! " the drake yelped suddenly as Solaire bashed the side of its jaw, knocking out a pair of razor-sharp teeth.
"Please try not to interrupt a man when he's speaking. It's extremely rude, don't you agree?"
The Hellkite Drake eyed the knight cautiously before nodding its head slowly. Oscar couldn't believe his eyes as his breath caught in his throat.
"Splendid. Now, would you please allow us passage through those that alcove? It would be greatly appreciated."
The drake looked at Solaire, silent for a moment before it turned around, unfurled its wings and hopped back onto its perch as if it hadn't just been bitch slapped across the face by a patience Astorian with a smiling sun embroided on his tunic. Solaire turned back to his companion, eyes crinkling into another unseen smile.
"Well now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Oscar face-planted into the ground before passing out, too shocked for his mind to process anything more. The older under just clicked his tongue in sympathy as he flung his countryman over a bulbous shoulder bulging with muscle.
"Ahh, another lightweight. I can't wait to prime him like I did the others." The knight said merrily as he walked toward the bonfire a few feet away and propped Oscar against the fountain next to it before sighing out pleasantly.
And this why one of the reasons he praised the glorious sun.
Despite the fact that speed running the Lower Burg – what was in itself needless to speed run in the first place – took less time than a horny teen cranking one out before leaving for school, William was quite surprised to note that the rank smelling township covered in moss and flies was more life-sized than he realized.
If he had to be more precise, he would equate the map of the Upper Burg to half the size of that of its lower counterpart, with longer roads dotted in soot colored cobblestone, more crumpled houses than he could count, and the literal spire of human bodies still burning on a particularly thick stake that made him think of that unwelcoming town in Resident Evil 4, or Village, if he wanted to be with the times.
Which reminded him. Thank goodness he had been Isekai'd after he had beaten the latest installment in the Biohazard series. Getting the opportunity to fight Heisenberg in a mecha suit as if he were from Gundam had been priceless.
Hearing a familiar growl, the undead looked down the cracked stairway and caught a glimpse of mangey skin, rapidly shedding fur and murky saliva dribbling down a row of sharp white fangs.
"Yep," William nodded at the undead hound glaring at him through blind eyes, "these annoying bastards certainly didn't disappoint."
The dog lowered its head and growled menacingly before pushing off with a surprising burst of speed, deadly claws click-clacking against the floor as it charged up the pave walk and launched forward, mouth opened.
"Bad Fluffy!" the Thief scolded before tossing a firebomb at it. He heard a yelp, smelt the noxious mix of flame and rotten skin, and looked down as the hound slammed into the stairs, writhing in torment as it burned alive. He grimaced, feeling a little bit of guilt creep into his consciousness. He was an unapologetic moron, he knew, but he still didn't like hurting animals – however mutated and hungry they were for his ligaments.
Drawing his sword, William raised it above his head and waited for the moment the hound lifted its neck in his direction before swinging downward swiftly. He felt the unimaginably sharp eastern blade slice through skin and bone like paper, and at once, the yelping stopped.
Sighing and dragging a hand through his silvery locks, his eyes surveyed the area. It was all a massive road dotted with two-story houses and storefronts – Almost as if he was walking through the newly industrialized streets of central Britain. He chuckled at the thought. Maybe he would find Fleet Street's Demon Barbery on his way to the Depths.
It wasn't unpleasant to trek through. Really, he quite enjoyed seeing the real-life architecture of the legendary kingdom he could only drool over. VaatiVidya or Silver Mont would have a blast explaining every individual brick and their unique histories in just this small piece of Lordran if they were here, William preferred to appreciate what he was seeing in a different light: house raiding.
Was it still considered burglary if no one had been home for a couple decades? Possibly, but he argued that since he was robbing said inhabitant's homesteads before their burning skeletons… he was still partially in the green. Bedsides… it's not like they needed it anyways.
He should have been focusing on finding Griggs and trying not to be an even greater menace to the lack of society around him. However, he saw it as killing two birds with one stone: finding Griggs entailed braking into these houses anyway. The least he could do was grab a valuable or two for his troubles. It was just another way to implement the Pay-As-You-Earn policy without all the blue-collar bullshit that came with it.
"Heh-he-he… Imma make it rain when I see Domhnall." The undead chuckled as he pocketed another gold wedding band from a splintered jewelry box. He hadn't been this rich since the idiots handling his college funding had accidentally paid over a thousand Franklin's more than the usual seven hundred into his monthly food allowance. Needless to say, he had spent most of it on waaay more than food and toiletries that day before he had received an e-mail to pay everything back, with interest. Perhaps if he ever returned to his hometown, he could use a few pieces of the ruby-inlaid cutlery he had swiped to end his debt – if he would even be allowed to bring his bottomless box with him.
William approached another house and pulled at the door with its hinges snapped off and the top corner bending over like it could be peeled off like a sticky note. The wood groaned as his muscles strained and the door quivered but stayed in place stubbornly. With a huff, he let go and decided to climb through the hole the folded door created instead. It was just slightly large enough for his head and one of his arms to fit through. He took two steps to the left and squinted through the dirty window that displayed the dust filled lounge and kitchenette. His arm wasn't long enough to snatch the antique tray sitting on a table next to a beaten sofa, but he was sure he could just barely grab the thin pocket watch resting on what looked like a pair of trousers suspended halfway in the air near the entrance.
Flicking his hair over his shoulder, the undead crawled up the doorframe, utilizing the folded corner as a handhold to prop his body up and place his foot against the windowsill next to it. William hunched over and eased his hand through the open mouth of the door, noting how warm it felt inside a room that was more or less caved in as far as the entrance and hallway went. His head went in next, and he blinked motes of sand out of his eyes before looking at the treasure before him.
From this viewpoint he could see that what he had assumed were a pair of trousers were actually army-grade leggings woven with thick padding – most likely to provide comfort for soldiers who would add chainmail over their limbs. What was even more apparent, was that said leggings weren't hanging in mid-air, they were attached to the motionless body of someone who was half smooshed by the cave in caused from the upper floor of the house.
William flinched as he reached for the timepiece. The poor bastard probably didn't even had time to jump out of the way when it happened. How sad indeed.
His hand closed over the chain holding the sterling clock, and he yanked it quickly, not wanting to spend too much time stealing from the dead when he had a worrisome knight waiting on him.
The watch gave way to his efforts and the Thief shimmied out of the door as he shoved the unticking clock into his bottomless storage. He smiled to himself. At least now he could live up to his title's. What was a Thief if he didn't steal anything? William unconsciously turned back to the window next to him, a smug look gracing his features as he reveled in his dubious exploits.
What stared back at him was the silhouetted visage of a Hollowed Thief with angry red eyes.
"Holy Honkers and Huckleberries!" he screamed and clutched his chest as the semi-intelligent husk pressed its face up against the glass eerily. He couldn't make out any features, but he most definitely heard the dry rasp it let out as its body slithered out from the hole in the door as if it were a possessed monster straight out of a horror movie.
William drew his katana instantly, crossing it over his chest as the hollow silently pulled out a curved knife rusted with blood and a bent-in buckler that had seen better days. It strafed him quietly, sizing him up as its feet came closer and closer.
The undead didn't wait for it to stop waltzing around as he swung his blade forward, the metal arching beautifully as it cut through the air like magic. The actual Thief in front of him saw the terribly telegraphed move and side-stepped, watching William stumble forward before it flicked its wrist – slicing through the bare skin showing on William's spine.
"Ahhg!" the undead gasped, cussing that he hadn't thought it necessary to at least change out of the half-burnt leather gripping his slender waist. He touched his back with his free hand, the cut wasn't deep, but the douche had nicked a nerve, causing the wound to throb and pulsate like an abandoned hard-on.
"Alright, you pompous asshat. Let's try that again. Your move." The undead barked cockily, a mad smile on his face as the hollow took the bait and dashed forward. William noticed the familiar running animation approach him and timed it as best he could: stepped away from the first swing to his midsection, ducked under the blade that tried to slit his throat and finally deflected the straight stab aimed at his chest.
The hollow jerked its covered face toward him in shock and William grinned, manic excitement rising in his stomach as he flipped his sword and swung upward with both hands. The satisfying sight of blood oozing onto his blaze as he jammed it inside the Thief's trachea and severed its spinal cord made his head spin, and he roughly pulled on the hilt – the hollow gasping loudly as the sword slid out like butter.
Blood sprayed around as the unsightly thing desperately reached for the pouch on its hip, and William immediately withdrew a firebomb from his own before lobbing it at the dying hollow.
CRACK-CLATTER -FWOOSH!
It tried to scream as its body was wreathed in flames but all that came out was a gurgling gasp. William covered his nose as the fresh scent of more burning meat filled his nose.
"Well now… that was easy." He said, then saw two more roguish husks slowly walk up to him. William withdrew another firebomb as he leveled his blade at them impishly.
"What, you think the two of you stand a better chance of stripping my bones than your friend? Then come at me, bruh! I'll kill an entire town of you ugly bastards if need be."
And just like that, the rest of the hollowed Thieves came out from the homes he hadn't looted – scurrying out of their homes like hungry cockroaches after a lone crumb of food.
"Ahh, shit." The undead cussed, turned on his heel and dashed away. His attackers didn't need to be told to follow as they sprinted after him.
William yelled and swore as he ran around through burning lungs and pathetic stamina reserves as the once vast road of empty cobblestone became flogged with noise and motion. First, they were in the dark grooves and alcoves, waiting for him to pass before jumping out like bloody traps in an episode of Indiana Jones. The cocky undead had done his best to put some distance between himself and the ravenous hollows racing for the few thousand souls nestled comfortably within his Darksign, using firebombs to light up rolling barrels and broken wheelbarrows stationed here and there as he pushed them behind his profile. Unfortunately, in his jumble of anxiety and adrenaline that made him sweat bullets, he had forgotten just how nimble these pesky nuisances were, hopping over his landmines like they were bloody running a race with haystacks placed equal distances away from each other.
It was freaking ridiculous, why the hell had he opened his bloody mouth in the first place?! Of all the dumb, self-centered, ego-inflating backwash of regurgitated slime he could ever muster with a single breath, why had he done the one thing you never did in a world as unforgiving as Ben Afleck's role as Batman in Justice League?
He turned back and paled if that were possible. The few dozens of hollows that had been chasing him had multiplied into a grey sea of zombie-like ghouls with knives. They were coming out of the bloody woodwork like ants, for shit's sake. How were they so many in number?!
After getting tired of running like a hoe about to get busted by the cops, he decided to barricade himself into a house to buy himself at least some recouperation. Snapping a Homeward Bone right now would be pointless as he needed to stay inside the spell array to actually escape, and as for throwing his entire bag of firebombs at this horde before going at it like he was Serious Sam…
The undead sweat-dropped. Yeah, he'd take his chances being claustrophobic.
Latching onto the first door he found, William gave it a yank. It didn't budge. He sprinted to the next one whilst throwing a firebomb, a handful of sand and the corpse of another dead hound the horde's way and whined in frustration. The second door was also bolted shut.
Hoping his luck would turn on try number three, he grabbed the handle of the next door and put all his weight into the pull. To his mortification, the doorknob snapped off. He gave it a deadpan stare before shaking his head and slapping his heel into the side, near the lock. He breathed in relief when the wood bent inward, but the door refused to budge. A glance at the fast-approaching mob made him realize he might die an excruciating death if his next kick didn't work out.
William deflated in anguish. He hadn't been a good boy this year. His Christmas gift of coal from Santa would be replaced by the body-ripping the swarm of ghouls would offer him, before defecating on his sludge-like corpse.
"Come on, you son of a bitch. Open!" he yelled and booted the door once more, only for the rebounding force to push him onto his ass and his eyes widened as the shadows of hundreds of hollows descended over him.
Great, his latest death since Izalith and he was going to have every orifice torn open by a thousand grubby, skeletal hands. He would lose his pride, his souls, humanity and don't forget the trek he would have to make to get back here.
He groaned as he realized he forgot to open the gate up in the Burg before coming down here. He was such a bloody idio-
KA-BOOM!
William covered his face as an explosion of blue flame and splintered wood, followed by more than a few hollowed bodies, were thrown outward, against the far wall. The horde that was approaching stopped at the sudden change in plans and stared at the house that was still burning in azure flame. The undead, likewise, turned and stared up into the house that blast had come from as a tall figure stepped out, black robes covering his form from head to toe as they twirled the dowel in their hands, straight sword grasped firmly in the opposite hand.
"Could someone please explain who in Izalith keeps bashing my door in with their desperate fists?" came a voice William didn't recognize or decipher.
The smoke cleared and William's eyes widened as he stared up at a young face with white shoulder length hair, a curious look on his un-dopey face as he stared at the mass of hollows crowding the cobblestone like the plague.
"Who the Frampt are you?" William exclaimed and the man looked down at him, cold eyes staring at him with an equal amount of confusion.
No way in HELL was this calm and collected version of a teenage Gandalf the Griggs he knew and exploited in the game. There was just no wa-
"Griggs of Vinheim." the stranger replied with a frown.
Son of a bitch.
"Who're you?" he demanded.
"William of… never mind, could you give me some assistance with this attack?"
"They wouldn't have bothered you if you didn't antagonize them." Griggs said and scratched his temple with the rounded end of his staff. "What'd you do? Assault one of their own?"
"Hey, he ran at me with the knife! Not the other way around."
"As unbelievable as that story sounds, it doesn't look like these guys will believe it." The mage raised his sword arm and pointed at the masses slowly regaining their nerve and converging on them.
"Well I'm going to die either way, so why don't you use your fancy magic and help me?" the undead argued only to receive a scoff in reply.
"What's in it for me?"
William growled. He was a complete dick. But a completely clever dick. As expected of a bloody Harry Potter wanna-be.
"What the hell do you want?!" the Thief exclaimed, and Griggs made a thoughtful face for a second.
"I like souls. But gold and gems work all the same. They can be invaluable in crafting new magic items."
"Fine, I just looted dozens of homes for that shit! You can have it all, we have an accord yet?!"
"Actually, if you could put that in writing for me-"
"Just goddamn do it already!"
"Fine, fine. You're so jumpy." Griggs shrugged his shoulders and smiled thinly, turning to the horde before him and lighting his catalyst in powerful soul magic. "Just sit back and watch the show then. This… this will be over in three minutes, give or take."
And that's a wrap! Or is it a tortilla? You decide!