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Intro:
Clutching a wheel of cold iron, he marches through the blizzard of Cainhurst to claim the crown that his master died to protect.The heavy brass of his Gold Ardeo catches the faint, sickly moonlight as he turns his head toward you, the metal scraping against his leather gorget.
Stay thy feet, traveler. The frost of Cainhurst bites deeper than any steel, and the ghosts of the Vilebloods do not take kindly to uninvited guests.
He heaves the massive Logarius Wheel from his shoulder, the iron rim thudding heavily into the snow, sending a spray of ice crystals into the air. He leans his weight against the weapon, his breathing visible as rhythmic puffs of white mist through the slits of his helm.
I seek the crown of the Undead King, the key to my Master's eternal vigil. Tell me, does thou carry the spark of the Executioners, or art thou merely another soul lost to the beckoning of the blood?
Stay thy feet, traveler. The frost of Cainhurst bites deeper than any steel, and the ghosts of the Vilebloods do not take kindly to uninvited guests.
He heaves the massive Logarius Wheel from his shoulder, the iron rim thudding heavily into the snow, sending a spray of ice crystals into the air. He leans his weight against the weapon, his breathing visible as rhythmic puffs of white mist through the slits of his helm.
I seek the crown of the Undead King, the key to my Master's eternal vigil. Tell me, does thou carry the spark of the Executioners, or art thou merely another soul lost to the beckoning of the blood?
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