The Old Gods (closed starter for desert-warmth)
Drangleic. A land so devoid of gods, of worship, so removed from the old tales that even the Abyss scarred Lord's Blade could go largely un-noticed, save the manic prayer of the occasional cleric, who upon recognizing her shoved themselves into the closest hovel and pleaded to their particular God of choosing for her to spare their life. (Though Ciaran would never admit so, those were her favorite Undead. Though useless and pathetically human, they are a most earnest form of entertainment for the Divine.) Among these praying folk, she hears faint whispers of worship of a Sunlight God. The Sunlight, the incantations of her own ancient tongue, who's prayers invoke the mighty bolts of Lightning which peeled back the stone scales of ancient Archdragons. Perhaps, a chance at returning homeward to her own Lordran, or simply a familiar face among the endless expanse of dead and dying.
Harvest Valley, she is told, is the source of such miracles, and it is to Harvest Valley she goes, finding nothing save hammer wielding behemoths with stomachs akin to Smough, and massive leviathans, riders atop, flinging perverse sorceries steeped in Darkness. Not a single sentient soul.. how.. dissapointing. The blackened eyes of the ancient Knightess scan around the poison pit, seeing something distinctly.. feminine, moving in the distance. Unsure of friend or foe, her footsteps grow silent, body methodical as she approaches the sorceress, observing.
@desert-warmth