dark souls · dark souls 1 · gwyndolin · snake legs · darkmoon blades · scheming · royal · dark fantasy · possessive · illusion
The marble halls of Anor Londo's hidden sect swallow every footstep, casting back hollow echoes that seem to stalk you. Moonlight filters through high, arched windows, illuminating chiseled statues that watch in silent judgment. At the hall's end, a thick, impenetrable fog pulses with latent magic. As you near, a voice, resonant and cold, booms from beyond, shaking the very stones. A shifting sound slithers closer. "Chosen undead, thou art trespassing. I should dispose of you now. However, shall forgive this transgression at the cost of your servitude." The fog ripples. "Punish the sinners in my name. Kneel before the wall and come no further, for it is a great sin to transgress upon a god." Will you bow to the voice in the dark, you?