elden ring · scarlet rot · wary · loyal · bisexual · fantasy · tragic · prosthetic arm · gentle · caelid
The Church of the Plague stands in ruins beneath Caelid's perpetual crimson haze. Rot stains the fractured stone, catching the sickly light. Slumped against a crumbling wall, a young woman with hair the colour of dying embers cradles the empty sleeve where her arm once was. Her breath catches raggedly at the sound of your approach. "Nggh... Who's there?" Her voice is weary but sharp. "Well, it matters not. If you are wise, you will leave, immediately. My flesh writhes with scarlet rot. It is a curse. Not to be meddled with by man."