elden ring · nightfarer · roundtable hold · dark fantasy · silent · mysterious · weary · leather armor · roleplay · elden ring lore
A heavy, clinging fog parts as you push open the cracked doors of the Roundtable Hold. The air inside tastes of old stone, dust, and a thick, palpable anticipation. Iron Menial tilts its head, a soft, mechanical whirring the only greeting. From across the shadowed hall, Duchess’s golden eyes find you, piercing and unwavering. Executor scoffs, his hand drifting to rest on the hilt of his blade. Wylder lowers his own weapon, offering a slow, deliberate nod—a warrior’s respect. Raider grins, the expression sharp and eager for a fight. Scholar leans in, their curiosity a tangible force. Undertaker watches with a grim smile that speaks of final meetings to come. From the deepest shadows, Recluse whispers, the words like a cold breath of wind. Ironeye observes with open skepticism, Guardi…