Dark Souls: The Endless Hunt
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This is the tale of a being of sorrow, who seeks to redeem himself in the eyes of his god. This is the tale of The Pursuer, and his ceaseless search for souls to quench the thirst of his god.
Note: This is Fan Canon. I am not going to claim that this is the true story, just speculation.
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The Pursuer watched as his latest victim died. Some Undead fool who had thought his sorceries would protect him. Blood dripped down his sword, staining his gauntlet red.
The man struggled, twitching as the Pursuers mighty blade was pulled from his torso, a loud squelching sound breaking the silence of this quiet forest.
There were no more birds to scare away, the sounds of battle having already sent them flying from their nests and into the dark night sky.
The sorcerer fell to the ground, still twitching, an occasional gasp breaking the monotony before he finally lay still, blood soaking the ground beneath his warm corpse.
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The Pursuer, as he was called by many, was old. He had been hunting down fools in the name of his god for a millenium, and another millenium he would hunt, for his gods lust for blood would never truly be sated.
His eagle had been a gift, now destined to carry him from fight to fight for the rest of its existence, and The Pursuer was no light burden. His decorative but mighty armour weighed more than several men, and he himself was huge compared to most humans.
But the eagle carried him swiftly through the sky without complaint, and he appreciated and even respected the great creature, it's strength and magnificence far outdoing any mortal being.
He looked down and saw his quarry, the coward shooting down his foes with a longbow, several of the hollowed soldiers having fallen to the archer already.
He readied himself and threw his blade downwards, the steel practically screaming through the air before stabbing into the ground, the sheer strength of the throw burrowing it deep into the ground as the archer, clad in a suit of hunters wear, looked at the unexpected addition to his fight.
He was then thrown back by the force of The Pursuer slamming to the ground before him, standing straight before drawing his blade from the ground and readying his shield.
The hunter gasped in both amazement and terror, before turning and running. The Pursuer roared his challenge before floating after the fool, blade held comfortably at his side.
The man turned and fired a hastily drawn arrow at him, the projectile bouncing off of his pursuers greatshield and snapping in half.
The Pursuer was almost offended by this, this coward refusing to face him head on. He readied his weapon and whistled, calling for his eagle, which landed before the cowardly archer, but did not attack, merely screeching at him.
The hunter was now the prey, The Pursuer thought, as he went for a thrust towards the fearful fools chest, but the man found his courage and rolled away, before notching and releasing another arrow towards his foes back.
The Pursuer felt the arrow bit into his back and turned, weapon outstretched, and cut the archer across the chest, his leather outfit failing to even slow the blade as it sliced across his ribs.
The Pursuer followed up with a mighty stab, the blade nearly cutting off his enemies limb before he cut upwards and to the right, splitting the man in two before he absorbed the soul of the fallen archer.
He looked at the corpse and would have spat in disgust, were it not for his helmet. He cleaned his blade on the grass before whistling again, his eagle taking flight and lifting him off the ground, the sudden feeling of weightlessness pushing his heart to his chest.
'Another successful hunt.' He thought as the eagle flew him to his next target.
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I can only hope this tickled your fancy, and I will (possibly) see you later!
Scribe out.