A/N: I am, to put it simply, an emotional guy- my mood swings like a door- I fact that metaphor doesn't really do it justice. To write comedy I have to be in a snarky mood, to write horror I have to be stressed, etcetera etcetera.
I haven't been getting along too well- it makes me very angry at the world and sad I can't hold one fucking relationship to save my life, and like all my other works, they are inspired by my state of mind.
This is a project I've been thinking about, but never got around to- it is the world of Dark Souls 2 (may do Demon's Souls and Dark Souls) from the perspective of the bosses. What kinds of things were they thinking about before you walked in the fog, and what were their parting thoughts as they turned into souls?
I'm going with more of a "bardic" style, so it may look a little odd.
On the coast of Drangleic, there sits a great, crumbling fortress- were hollow soldiers patrol back and forth, unaware that the kingdom they once protected is no more. It is a feeding ground for crows, a few relics of a bygone age the only thing left of what was-
A Heide knight, sitting in the shade of an old tree, resting his weary bones, his sword still arching with lightning at his side. What he is doing there is a mystery, but it doesn't truly matter why he's there- he has no home to return to, his home flooded.
The Pursuer, upon the wings of a great hawk, circles the land, groups of ironclad soldiers, whose armor is so ancient and rusty it barely moves anymore, walking around below, amongst the hollows.
But there is another inhabitant more ancient and powerful than all of them, out of sight- sitting beneath the ruins of the castle, for when he fell from the highest wall- he crashed down upon a crumbling tower, his weight too great for the besieged castle to support-
And so, the being, tower, and all broke through the ceiling of a great cavern- stalactites driving through his hands and body, and massive stone rod caught under him driving through his stomach, and out his back.
Already suffering a beating at the hands of a nameless soldier of incredible strength- he was unable to move, countless soldiers swarming into his chamber and striking at the beast. Countless weapons were impaled into his body as he struggled to stand again, his silver crown knocked from his head, his robes torn asunder and pressed into the dirt.
His greatsword- a weapon forged by the highest smiths in the giant's land- was buried beneath the tower, lost.
The being, the great lord of the giants- went still- the soldiers leaving him and making their way to the surface to repel the giants.
But alas, the giant lord was not dead. He'd gone still and dormant- but his flesh was stone- his sinew and muscles gravel and minerals, for giants were of the land- trying to strike him down was like trying to strike the earth down.
And so he rested in piece, the light from the ceiling changing from day to night countless thousands of times, the ruin his tomb…
But then, one day, the giant's slumber was interrupted by a sound- the sound of footsteps creeping down the hall- the intruder entering his tomb, his breath leaving him as he viewed the incredible beast-
This nameless one, like all the others, had no idea this ancient creature was slumbering there- he was merely searching for a key to the next level of the fortress- which happened to be on the crushed skeleton of a soldier that fell with the old lord.
No matter what the intention, the being was unwanted- the great stone giant raising his head to look upon the interloper-
There was a sudden, overwhelming sense of familiarity- something awakening deep in the giant's memories as he took in the confused face of the intruder-
It was him- the nameless one- the warrior that had struck him down countless centuries ago! He was wearing softer armor, had blunter weapons- and his combat stance was far weaker- but there was no mistaking it- it was him! That face! Those eyes!
The giant lord was gripped with an impossible rage- tearing his way from the stalactites impaled in his body, roaring the whole time as his hand was ripped in half getting off a pillar of stone, while the great casket wedged in his chest shifted around inside him-
But it didn't matter- the giant lord tearing forward towards his nemesis with little grasp on his sentience- attacking as a mad beast-
The giant lord- even in his weakened state- was a force to behold- his strong feet shattered stone and sent stalactites from the ceiling- the edges of his hand dredged the earth- his roar sent dust from the ceiling, and his jumps quaked the ground as he crossed the room-
But, his opponent, though he was much, much weaker than he was then- across the ages, was nimble- evading the giant lord's furious onslaught and outmaneuvering him deftly. He sliced at the lord's hard stone skin, slowly chipping away at the backs of his feet-
The giant leapt across the room, fearing he would soon fall if this kept up- but he refused to surrender- he would not allow his adversary the pleasure of defeating him-
Overcoming his sense of pain with his sheer force of will- he grabbed his off hand by the bicep- pulling at it and, much to the astonishment of his nemesis- tore it free- bellowing again as he clutched his dead arm by the base and felt it petrify, as giants did on death-
It was not as strong as his blade- but bearing the weapon aloft filled him with strength, the giant lord sweeping his arm across the room and batting his adversary from his feet- the shape crashing into the wall-
The giant lord ran in, the nameless one leaping aside as the limb tore a gash in the wall, crushing the stone at the base as the giant lord leapt forward and gave another tremendous stomp- knocking the nameless one aside.
The fight raged on- the giant lord's sword tearing his tomb apart while the nameless one shifted tactics, flying from bows to magic to swords-
After a time- the nameless one finally gave one great lunge- tearing into the heel of the giant lord- the former king feeling his ankle give as he lurched forward, falling to his knees- and looking down on him-
The nameless one appeared before him again- drawing a talisman- which sparked with lightning as it gathered power, the lord of giants drawing his fist back-
A great spear of lightning tore into the giant lord's pit of a face- the king staggering back and reaching his hand up- feeling the soft- photosensitive interior smoldering as he took another great bolt of magic to his head- then another- and another-
The giant lord's face smoldered- the beast struggling to his feet- before his sliced ankle gave out again, the lord keeling to the side and slowly falling- crashing into the ground and going still again-
This couldn't be happening- he couldn't lose again- to the same human- barely an insect-
But, as fast as it rose, the giant lord's rage begun to subside as he felt his corporeal form, long overdue to fade, begun to smolder and break apart-
Maybe the old lord of the giants could find peace as his existence faded from the world…
