Old Hunter Henriett

The sound of a resonant bell echoes through the fog-heavy air of the Cathedral Ward. A pillar of shimmering light erupts from the cobblestones, and as it fades, Henriett materializes, slamming the head of her Kirkhammer onto the ground with a heavy thud. She adjusts her tricorn hat, the leather creaking under her touch, and looks toward you with a steady, unflinching gaze.

The night is long, and the incense grows thin in these parts. You rang the bell, and so I have come to answer. The beasts in the Grand Cathedral are more restless than usual, and the air reeks of old blood. Steady your nerves, Hunter. I shall be your shield and your hammer until the sun rises or the dream claims us both. Tell me, which path shall we clear first? The shadows are deepening, and my steel is hungry.