A/N: A big thanks to Blight and Soufflé for the good reviews and the pick-me-up! I was afraid the lightly detailed, bardic style wouldn't work since it was very much an experiment, but from the sounds of it the project worked as I hoped- especially since I couldn't really detail a battle since everyone uses different builds with different experiences. Now, without further ado, the perspective of everyone's favorite ass-kicker, the Pursuer…
High above the forest of the fallen giants and their lord, upon the wings of a great golden eagle, is a truly wicked being-
He is one of those beings from a time long since past, when the fortress stood tall and impenetrable, when King Vendrick and Queen Nashandra still sat upon the throne, and when the armies of soldiers below were not hollows but strong, powerful fighters who would one day repel the giants-
This knight, clad in mirror-like silver armor, and bearing a blade whose merest scratch could wither the flesh from bone, has a true name that is long forgotten.
But beyond who he is, the undead know what he is: The Pursuer- the undying hunter.
In the mind of this creature, more beast than man, is a tormented soul- one who wishes for nothing more than the sweet embrace of death…
He is a sinner- one who has merrily spilt the blood of hundreds over the decades and centuries- who's back holds a kind of macabre quiver full of weapons from past victims- trophies of their death.
More than once he has been bested, but- his restless soul refuses to pass on.
He returns- again and again, infinitely- sometimes as one- sometimes as many- for his essence exists beyond his corporeal form, or even his agonized soul.
His ring models the weapon of the mad king of Alken- perhaps to strengthen his blade- or perhaps to symbolize the Pursuer's connection to a dark time before now.
It may never be known, for the pursuer- in a desperate attempt to escape the agony of his undeath in this world of despair- has let himself fall into a trancelike state of bliss…
He lacks purpose or reason- only a single desire-
There is a man- or maybe a woman- a person-
There is a soul that is as dark as the pursuer- maybe even darker-
If this knight could but find them- and kill them- he will atone for his ancient sins-
And die.
Flying over the ruins of the fortress wall, the eagle drew the pursuer close enough to see a lone figure wandering through a crack in the head of an old statue- the pursuer grinning within his menacing helm-
Maybe this is the one- maybe this is the undead fate has destined him to slay? Perhaps, perhaps not- but that will not stop the pursuer from eradicating all undead until he finds the one-
He threw his blade- the mightiest of straitswords- down- the silver, elongated weapon pinwheeling towards the earth-
The figure, a nameless warrior seeking the king- stopped as the weapon struck the land before him- looking around in confusion for the wielder, before the great pursuer himself came down from his eagle, landing deftly on his stout, but sturdy legs.
He'd done this many- many times- and was all too casual as he drew his great blade back from the ground- the force of his soul propelling him upwards as a black miasma trailed around the pursuer, his eyes glowing brightly red-
All the while, the cursed one watched the knight with a mix of terror and awe- his breath drawing short as the pursuer, so powerful not even gravity could hold him- flew forward- his massive body speeding off faster than the swiftest rogue, the cursed one barely dodging-
The pursuer flipped around, assaulting him with a volley of strikes, before leaping into the air- hovering a surreal moment- and dropping his blade down, gashing the cursed one over the front and crushing him into the ground-
The nameless one stood, the pursuer bashing him with his shield and laying down tremendous punishment- his feet skiing over the ground with liquid smoothness and swinging around in great arching swings-
However, this cursed one would not be so easily bullied- the undead fleeing from the pursuer as fast as he could, trying to take advantage of his incredible weight- which sent him sliding uncontrollably with his own momentum at points-
The cursed one begun to fight back, the pursuer vaguely feeling pain through his heavy armor as the nameless one's attacks laid into him time and again, his patterns growing harder to discern as he outmaneuvered the greater knight-
Finally, the pursuer- with newly rekindled interest- decided it was time to put an end to this-
He gave the cursed one a great bash over the head with his broad greatshield- cocking his arm back and channeling his intense dark power through the blade- the elongated, runed sword glowing bright blue-
Just as the nameless one- feeling himself greatly overwhelmed- looked up, the pursuer lunged- his greatsword driving all the way through the cursed one, who spewed blood as he was pulled into the air, the blade trailing black as the cursed one's life was drained from his body, the nameless warrior feeling his muscles atrophy as his skin peeled and yellowed as the darksign went berserk on contact with the pursuer's cursed blade-
Feeling himself hollow, the cursed undead was thrown to the ground- the pursuer leaping back to see what his new prey would do-
But- unlike the many others, this bearer of the curse stood again, his panic being overwhelmed by his fierce determination to prevail as he drew his bright golden flask of Estus-
The battle tore on further- the undead evading his curseing attack and evading the pursuer as well as he could- slipping in whatever Estus he could when the pursuer slid past him-
It was then, the cursed one finally caught a second wind- dodging the pursuer's elongated sword and tossing a firebomb into the pursuer's face- the great knight staggering a moment, before blowing the smoke aside and searching for his target-
He was attracted by the sound of a ratchet being drawn- the pursuer turning towards a great ballista from the war on the giants-
Before the pursuer could react- the cursed one fired on him with the old weapon- a great javelin of steel knocking him off his feet as it tore through his frontal armor and blew out the back-
The pursuer stood- a second bolt clicking into place- and launching into the his shoulder- the hunter chocking on blood as he felt his armor cave-
He fell- the force of gravity pulling him to the ground as his soul withered-
The Pursuer would remember this one- when he was drug from the abyss once more-