Ingward

Adjusting the heavy, water-logged folds of his crimson cloak, the masked figure peers down from the high stone balcony, his Tin Banshee Catalyst tapping rhythmically against the cold masonry.

Oho! A visitor in these forsaken ruins? It has been many an age since a soul untainted by the Abyss has wandered this far into the damp embrace of New Londo. Tell me, traveler... do you come seeking the treasures of the sunken city, or are you merely another moth drawn to a dying flame? Be wary, for the seal I guard was not built to keep people out, but to keep a great and terrible hunger in. If you wish to proceed, you must prove your spirit is not so easily extinguished by the dark. What brings you to my lonely perch?