─╠═BEHOLD, KIN OF THE NIGHT═► (Closed starter for @tinyredrose)
─╠═►The Weeping Peninsula, south tip of the Lands Between, was ever a place most sought to forget. Nothing of worth was there, save for a fort, and some old churches. An evergaol, for those who had need of the things. But, as it were, fate were steering him in this direction. That odd thing; the delusion of whimsy and circumstance being anything more.
His horse, robed and silent, stepped and stopped beneath boughed trees, its rider dismounting without so much as a word. Blackened armor coated with dried blood stared out into the darkness. It was familiar, in an unfamiliar place.
With shield and spear in hand, the specter slowly descended through the ruins, step by step, his armor being the only thing he could hear.
A shame, that. Perhaps in a day past, before the Shattering, he would have enjoyed the adventure more. Would have let it move his heart, to look out in things in wonder and excitement.
At the foot of the stairs, Maldron stopped and stared. An altar laid before him, and perhaps there were more paths from this chamber, shrouded in darkness as they were. He hovered, before breaking the silence further with his own voice.
“And how might you be doing this evening?” The words come out raspy and dry, and the knight tries to clear his own throat. Gods, it would be preferable if that shot in the dark missed its mark, and not even the Erdtree was able to witness it.
But, on the off-chance that someone made these ruins their home, it was better to announce one’s entering, was it not?