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Sympathy for the Grafted

I think, personally, that Godrick has one of the better “buildups” when it comes to his character — but I won’t really go into that. I also love him for what he represents: this kind of rot, or slow degradation, that once was the glory of his golden clan.
Godrick, as we know, is a member of the Golden Lineage — those born from and descended of Queen Marika and the Elden Lord Godfrey. Godrick’s generational distance is also quite notable, as he’s barely regarded as a demigod — a decrepit, old, ugly, and grotesque man.
A detail that isn’t often brought up about Godrick is that he was born a weakling child. That isn’t to say being born closer in stature to mortals makes someone weak, but rather, there was something inherently wrong with him — something that made him physically weaker than most others. Sickly born, I suppose.
Now, take into consideration the factors that culminated in Godrick as a person:
The citizens of Leyndell — members of the nobility, royalty, and their servants — are largely isolated. They lived in a small city that is twice fortified by near-impenetrable walls. This land is their right, as the grave-given denizens of the Erdtree. So naturally, not only is material wealth taken into consideration, but also physical traits. If you were graceless — some flavor of beast or demihuman, or both — you’d better be far away, enslaved, run through the machine of war, or killed. The world has no place for impurities.
This culminates in a genetic and spiritual enclave of highland supremacists who undermine anyone beyond their way of life or understanding. Godrick echoes this — a snobby, classist racist, naturally. He’s the byproduct of his circumstances. The chosen, worthy people — a golden people under the great tree.
Godrick’s clan is also one marked by bravery, heroism, and selflessness. Godfrey was a man known for his conquering reign and his ability to face down any challenge with either his axe or bare hands. Godwyn the Golden was a fearsome warrior who fought prehistoric dragons that conjured storms, and he was hailed as a beloved peacemaker.
Where does that leave Godrick? Physically, he is no more impressive than some commoners — not at all a tall, muscular man brandishing a weapon with cascading blond hair, but a sickly man brought up at the end of an era, when the glory of his people began to fade after the banishment of their clan’s forefather.

Godrick has a radically misunderstood image of Godfrey in his mind — mostly because Hoarah Loux’s identity as Godfrey is his legacy. The battle axe, the tree, the lion — these are symbols of Godfrey that Godrick dons. You may notice how neither Godfrey nor Godwyn dress at all like Godrick, his fellow weakling kin, or their banners or armies. Godfrey and Godwyn wear a lot of blue with floral-aquatic golden embroidery, generally adorned with silver or gold ornaments. Godrick and his affiliates wear orange and green, accented with yellow, with the symbols of Godfrey woven throughout — symbols of home, strength, and wisdom.

Godrick is a man who likes to wear, feature, and speak on ideals of strength and faith, but in no way could he actually be emblematic of them. He wasn’t Godfrey — not like that. He was the sickly-born child of a great legacy, whose forebears no longer preside over the continent. Godrick was a man who likely just wanted some small amount of notoriety as a golden clansman during the brief and tenuous period following Godwyn’s death and during Morgott’s fragile attempt at a peaceful coalition with his fellow Shardbearers. But Godrick the Golden was always the little one.
Not to mention, he’s a thieving coward — stealing family treasures, attempting a siege upon Leyndell (which, to be fair, was an understandable move when an Omen of all things claims he possesses more legitimacy than you), hiding himself among the womenfolk, hiding within Stormveil, insulting Malenia only to be defeated, wherein she spared him as he groveled to the ground to quite literally kiss her unalloyed feet. He’s so goddamn pathetic. Everything he’s ever had, he either stole from others or inherited because he’s all that’s left in any relevant capacity.
Even in Morgott’s coalition — imagine: you have the Carian royalty and the malformed twins, all children of the man who displaced your ancestor. The only apparent representative of your kin is a foolish Omen claiming kingship. Yet Godrick had no physical prowess, and so he survived by being a pathetic coward, slipping through the cracks whenever it suited him.
I can definitely see him as a self-loathing man. How unfair it must feel to be born in such a way, when you’re surrounded by grandeur. Sadly, he chose the villainous route — but then again, they’re all just warring aristocrats in the end. All the demigods.
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This whole situation is ridiculously immature. The more it’s talked about, the more it loses any and all meaning. One person wanted to draw just the royal family—parents and the few children we have visual depictions of—while the other preferred including a different family member who’s often excluded by the fandom, even if they’re a distant descendant. It’s not that deep. Just preferences, dawg. Y’all need to chill.
My biggest Elden Ring fanarts headaches are: 1) Vargram erasure 2) challenges to draw a group of characters but excluding someone due to personal negative bias (most notorious example, "the entire royal family tree fanart :3" while deliberately excluding Godrick) and 3) gooner Marika fanarts. I am yet to discover the four type that makes me see red, and when I do, it will be MY Four Horsemen.
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Hot take but I actually hate what Denis did to almost all of the characters in both Dune films. The only things I really liked was how he fleshed out Reverend Mother Mohiam and Irulan as this mother-daughter master-student dynamic that was absent in book one. Plus Mohiam being such an excelent schemer was also absent in the first book. I also kind of like what he did to Rabban’s character as a coward and poor fighter who inflicts pain out of fear of his uncle. Other than that, personally, I feel like a lot of character got downgraded bad.
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🦞 Clawed Witness 🌬️
Only I remain. The land and ocean to myself. The seaward marsh— The salted mud of the shore, where pygmy things once scuttled and tunneled. The reeds, where buzzing, flying things once rested.
Gray sand, littered with hollowed homes—an oak eaten by water. It’s a great stretch of land, Plain as far as the eye can see.
Pale gray clouds, echoing, rush overhead. A storm will come soon, To whisk away the rotting bridge, One piece after another. The fishing boats now lie in indiscernible wreck. The old seaside villages, too, will follow.
Here I am. Here I remain, Back arched to the sky, Bracing for rain. Only I can cherish this beach— For that is the nature of my kind.
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Is Queen Marika a Bad Mom?

I love Mother Marika — she’s fierce and carries trauma. Beautiful, yet dreadful. But was she a good mother?
This isn’t going to be heavy on theorizing; I just wanted to reflect on the few times we’re given real insight into how she interacted with her many, many children.
Let’s start with Prince Godwyn. As a baby, Godwyn was actually attended by a wet nurse who also doubled as a Finger Reader — one of those eyeless, aged crones who divine the words of the Two Fingers and apparently do palm readings too.
Godwyn, as a character, is very visually proud — flaunting his heritage: golden hair, a billowing blue skirt, a beautiful body, and surrounded by a small circle of golden knights wielding the trademark weapon of his father, the First Elden Lord.
He was a capable warrior, even going toe-to-toe with ancient dragons. Presumably a man of deep faith, given his mastery of incantations and devotion to the Erdtree, though he wasn’t quick to seek violence. He served as a peace broker, eventually helping assimilate ancient dragon reverence into the homogeny of Erdtree worship.

Many of Marika’s children died on the Night of the Black Knives — Godwyn was simply the first among the victims. His death apparently pushed the already wavering Marika over the edge, prompting her to shatter the Elden Ring — the very thing she was the vessel for.
Now, it’s likely Marika had already been planning to sever ties with the Erdtree for some time — Godwyn’s death was just the unexpected nail in the coffin that sped everything up.
Takeaways? Godwyn was a decent guy, and Marika did grieve for her children.
Next up: our beloved scoliosis crusader, M’Lord Messmer the Impaler. Marika’s relationship with this son is rather tragic, largely because she put quite a lot of effort into him.

She created magical healing elixirs capable of dispelling any ailment specifically for Messmer and — however painful this sounds — tore out his eye and replaced it with a scarseal of grace. Messmer’s true nature as a serpent caused him immense suffering, both physically and mentally. It ate away at him from within. His new eye, along with his winged serpent companions, was meant to suppress that very nature.
Despite all of that, Marika asked her son to become the face of a crusade she wished to wage against the Hornsent, keeping her own involvement largely unknown — or at least obscured beyond what Erdtree propaganda would lead one to believe. As a result, Messmer bore all the hatred that would have otherwise been directed at his mother.
In the end, though, she stopped trying to help him. I honestly think Marika saw Messmer as something of a lost cause — a basket case she couldn’t fix, no matter how hard she tried. So she stained his name and left him stranded in another reality, without a word.
So… takeaways? Marika tried to help her child, but gave up. She used him as a tool of war before abandoning him. Messmer, as a character, is a self-loathing man with a genocide under his belt — and he both loves and hates his mother, understandably.
As for Morgott and Mohg…? I have no idea who originally said “Crucible bad,” but I presume it may have been Marika, given her ties to the Hornsent and her fervent desire to bury her past.
Marika — or Godfrey, or perhaps both — at least mourned the twins. The Omen Barins are small dolls made to memorialize omen children — children who either died from having their horns excised, were used as slave labor (among the common folk), or were forced to live in the sewers (among the nobility). Either way, the dolls were crafted by both commoners and royals, because to have an omen child was to have a child who was effectively dead.
So, while Morgott and Mohg lived, Marika and Godfrey had to act as though they had died — or never existed at all. And yet, they probably did mourn them, if that regal Omen Barin is anything to go by.
Takeaways? Marika abandoned her children to death because of a social norm she may have helped create — one that further demonized those responsible for the culling of her tribe and her rise to godhood.
With Miquella, all we really get is that vague line about Queen Marika’s sorrow being justified. I have no clue what that’s supposed to mean. But hey — she can feel sorrow! Ain’t too heartless, ya hear? I mean, Radagon has a relationship with Miquella, but we’re not here to talk about him.

Now, finally, to her children collectively — probably, based on the context, referring to Malenia, Miquella, Rykard, Ranni, Radahn, and maybe (or maybe not) Godwyn, depending on when the speech was delivered. But that doesn’t really matter.
She refers to her children as her beloveds, and encourages them to make something of themselves while they still can — to become something in this world, whatever they desire. For some, that means becoming the next Elden Lord (her sons); for others, the next God (her daughters — and Miquella). But she warns them: if they fail to become anything at all, they will be forsaken and sacrificed.
And she was right. When the Shattering War occurred and none of the demigods came out on top, the Two Fingers forsook them all and encouraged the Tarnished to kill them for their Great Runes.
Takeaways? She cared enough to at least acknowledge the consequences they’d face if they failed. It was a necessary dose of ambition to ensure survival and keep the flame of Order alive. She was being realistic. The Two Fingers were already waving the end of her reign in her face — she knew exactly what they’d do to her family.
In conclusion, Marika isn’t a perfect mother — she’s complex. I love her.
#elden ring lore#elden ring#queen marika the eternal#queen marika#messmer the impaler#godwyn the golden#morgott the omen king#mohg lord of blood
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Nightreign Fellowship Thoughts
Fellowship lore post out of the way. They’re probably one of my favorite parts of Nightreign. Like, they’re a black market assassination organization where people raise Those Who Live in Death in dormitories—without them even knowing about their curse—so they can be wielded as undying weapons. Then they’re killed once they either outlive their usefulness or learn the truth.
And since they can only be killed by Order, that must mean their guardians have to be at least clerics of some kind, or practitioners of Golden Order incantations from beyond the Lands Between. This would also place their founding sometime after Godwyn’s death.
They’re literally called “children of the centipede,” and their wax seal looks like the half-wheel wound of a centipede. Not to mention, they lived in a dormitory tucked in a “Dusken” or dark valley.
I also like how the assassins are named after their defining traits. Ironeye—for his eyes and aim. Batear, or “Bat Ear,” probably has exceptional hearing or tracking abilities.
Honestly, I think the reason Isolde didn’t want the Night to end is because he cared about his “children.” In a strange way, he didn’t want them to die—so by extending the Night, their duties could never be fulfilled, and they could go on living.
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Nightreign Lore: The Fellowship, Ironeye, Isolde & Monster

The Fellowship is a black market organization that specializes exclusively in assassination. Its name inspires dread, for even criminals pray not to be targeted by them. Mercenaries within the organization are known to travel abroad, ending conflicts covertly. Each mercenary of the Fellowship possesses a unique weapon. As such, those marked for death must remain wary of every possible method. The pressure can be unbearable, and many choose to end their own lives before the assassin arrives.
Mercenaries of the Fellowship seal letters with a distinct mark, symbolizing their unwavering vow to eliminate a chosen target without fail. It is a contract of assassination, and its origins are said to trace back to the Lands Between.
Fellowship mercenaries must earn their keep by fulfilling their assigned “jobs.” The Fellowship itself does not interfere with the operation. The assassin must cover their own travel expenses, gather intelligence, and secure potential allies or collaborators independently.
Assassins—“destined children” of the centipede—are raised and nurtured within the Fellowship, each cared for by a master. Once their duties are fulfilled, they are killed. However, they do not die easily. In truth, they cannot die—they are accursed. Combat was once a joy to them, but their war against the Nightlord has only brought misery. As Those Who Live in Death, only the sacred power of Order can prevent their return. The Fellowship thus resolves all problems through killing.
The assassin known as Ironeye was feared for his judgment and piercing gaze—said to never miss an opening, able to dominate the battlefield from afar. His preferred weapon was a sleek, black, lustrous bow—one of the most masterfully crafted ever produced by the Fellowship.
After receiving word from the assassin Batear that Ironeye had completed his assignment, Isolde—Ironeye’s master and caretaker—sent him his reward. He then informed him that he would be dispatched to the Lands Between to pursue and eliminate a new target: a former comrade, now traitor.
The traitor of the Fellowship was an archer of unmatched skill, with a cold flame burning in his eyes. He had killed his own master, then destroyed the boarding house in the Dusken Valley. Consumed by his obsession with killing, he ceased to be human. Thus, he became known as the “Monster.” The Monster used refined arrowheads, each engraved with a single word meant to become the epitaph of the one struck. He had once been invited to the Roundtable Hold but abandoned his duties as a Nightfarer, now hiding somewhere within the Lands Between. In truth, the Monster welcomed Ironeye—for through him, the truth of their undying curse would be revealed, and at last, he could finally die.
Isolde was a man who once dreamed of overturning reality with the power of Night, though he dismissed such a dream as foolish. He had envisioned an endless Night, where the mercenaries he nurtured could fight forever. In the end, he urged Ironeye to discard his doubts and follow his heart. Ironeye, of course, had no doubts He had longed to be free of the Fellowship—a possibility Isolde had shown him at the cost of his own life. And so, Ironeye would not end the Night. In his eyes, too, a cold flame burned.
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Fello- Noklateo is cool yo
Wanna do a Fellowship lore post, but in the meantime, I LOVE the shrouded city of Noklateo. It’s like a dark Leyndell — same double-walled, triangular layout — although the terrain behind it has sunk into the sea, along with any remaining buildings.
Aesthetically, it actually looks more modern than Leyndell, with minimalistic architecture, benches, and street lamps lining the side walls. Everyone there is dead and headless (knights, fallen hawk slave soldiers, pages, pumpkin heads), except for the Black Knife Assassins and Dragonkin who still reside within the city.
The “focal point” is a massive, auditorium-like chamber where Astel appears before a Nox chair crypt. The two "treasures" of the city are:
The ability to return to life after death — taken from beneath the chair crypt.
A duplicated, but stronger, version of a weapon found on the body of a soulless demigod lying inside.
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Adel’s Lightning?
Not a major lore post, but Adel’s new phase generates a storm, and his purple lightning deals lightning damage — not magic damage like gravity lightning. Anatomically speaking, he looks mostly like a Wyvern. We’ve seen Wyverns use lightning before, like those living at Jagged Peak with their ol’ papa Bayle. I guess Adel really is a “mystery of life,” as his Japanese text puts it. There’s a beauty in his ravenous barbarity.
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You are being soooooo true about criminal absence of Raider x Ironeye content. I was looking for the good reason to tell you that I love your art btw but I am saying it now as I try to bait you to draw this ship some time 👀
🤣🤣 I would really like to draw the Nightfarers but I’m just so shit at art lol. I honestly wanna do Executor cuz they’re literally a “crucible gender anomaly.” Tbh when I get time. That and maybe Heolstor before he was sealed. Make him more “normal” I guess.
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Raider x Ironeye Y’all
People out here making ship art of Wylder and Ironeye, and I guess I get it—but I also don’t. Like, I’m gay, but I just don’t see the appeal 😭. Are we not going to talk about how, besides the Iron Menial, Ironeye is the only other guy who cheers Raider on and gets excited about his accomplishments? He even tries to joke with him, but it’s so awkward because Ironeye has this deep, gravelly, monotone voice. Like—this dude is an assassin from a globally feared organization, but here he is, fan-girling over Daddy Black Claw.
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Tarnished OCs
Honestly, I’m terrible at roleplaying. I was never able to immerse myself in my character; instead, I was more focused on creating the most lethal build. That’s partly why I enjoy Nightreign — the builds are characters, each imbued with their own history and personality. We can begin to learn their pasts and choose whether to despise or identify with them.
At best, when I first played Dark Souls III — which was my introduction to the series — I chose an Irithyllian as my origin. So, as my friend and I played, I’d say things like, “Hold on, let me go kill these dirty poor people for their silly little souls,” since I had gathered that the Irithyllians were a genetic enclave of pale nobility descended from the Old Gods.
That being said, I did try creating a few actual “characters” in Elden Ring. One was a high-ranking perfumer who, in her youth, had served as a page. Her craft was well-known throughout the land, and she wielded both a crossbow and a dagger. I believe I named her Mengloth, after the Jötunn woman and healing deity from folklore. I’d roam all over Altus in search of ingredients for my perfumes, though I often visited the Waypoint Ruins in Limgrave, where a Miranda flower had bloomed.
I’ve forgotten the names of the others, but I had a Confessor who forsook his duties in pursuit of a deeper connection to the Erdtree. He was foreign-born and had only known of its splendor through runic scripture—so the assassin became a cleric.
Another was a man whose ancestors hailed from the crumbling city of Farum Azula. He bore the rocky skin of their kind and turned to dragon communion in a vain hope of returning home—seeking to become more like his ancient kin. He wore wyvern flesh as a Drake Knight, yet wielded lightning as described in the old prayer books.
Some others included: – A Lazuli scholar who was ordained into knighthood through service under Ranni the Witch. – A wandering perfumer, practicing arts deemed heretical by the capital. – A silent exile who mastered the freezing winds.
I’d still like to create a Statcaller character— A man who spent his life following the stars, searching for fallen meteorites and seeking wisdom in the Stone-Skinned Lords who rose from their impact craters. In many ways, he wasn’t unlike the ancient astrologers—collecting gemstones as he wandered the continent—only this man would come to wield the power of gravity itself.
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Nightreign Lore: Maris

Augur’s expedition name in Japanese is 兆し, which—based on a quick search—means an omen, a sign of what will eventually happen, or a symptom of something. Their name is Maris, which I assume is derived from or related to the word mare, meaning “sea.” Their title, “Fathom,” is written as 深海, which simply refers to the deep or abyssal part of the sea, also based on a quick search.
Their lore is fairly simple: Maris is described as an ancient—or “primordial”—life form. It did not perceive, merely drifting endlessly through the “skies,” transforming its surroundings into an “ocean” as it blended with the terrain and life therein. The creature’s shifting, malleable nature likens it to a dream—and fittingly, Maris induces sleep in its aggressors. It only gained awareness after sensing and coming into contact with the Night, “tasting” it—a sensation it found incredibly vast, and deeply lonesome.
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Radagon — Queen’s Hot Cousin

We know the nature of Radagon as Marika’s other half — that big ol’ secret is out of the bag. But something I’d like to explore further is the civilian perception of Radagon, which I feel most people don’t talk about.
This primarily stems from his marriage to Rennala. Radagon’s union with her merged the Erdtree Royal House with the Carian Royal House. But that raises questions about the events leading up to it. Radagon only gained fame during the Liurnian War, which is also his earliest known appearance in historical records. Yet when he arrived in Liurnia, he was presumably commanding a segment of Leyndell’s army.
The fact that Radagon’s marriage united Marika’s bloodline and kingdom with the southern lands of Liurnia must at least imply a familial relation. Now, I know the people of the realm weren’t privy to the truth of their second Elden Lord, but it seems Radagon had some known connection to Marika — perhaps as a distant cousin. Not a demigod, but significant enough for the Queen to appoint him to command a portion of the capital’s military. This blood tie, however you want to frame it, merged the two royal families. So when Marika later married Radagon, it would have been incestuous in both the public and secret contexts.
Radagon was hailed as a hero, a champion, and was known — beyond the war — for his striking red hair. Red hair, of course, is symbolic of Giant’s blood, but it’s also often associated with inherited flame — like that of the Fire Monks or Messmer’s inner circle of Fire Knights. Radagon was apparently self-conscious about his hair and loathed it, despite its flowing beauty. He was a man who sought perfection — or perhaps wholeness — a desire to know and master all things. To some extent, I’m sure he satisfied this under his first wife’s tutelage. Radagon was a “peacekeeper,” a scholarly king, and his reign was one marked by “civilization,” devoid of the barbarity seen during Godfrey’s era.
Of course, Radagon’s reforms led to a wave of Crucible purging, thereby condemning both those blessed by its power and anyone living outside the reach or pretensions of the Erdtree. Gotta love a racist, abusive house-husband twink who plays favorites with his children.
Another point is how good of a servant Radagon was. In retrospect, he did quite a lot to further the interests of the Fingers. He brokered peace with a nation that could resist the Erdtree’s might, produced influential figureheads within the Golden Order — his two sons — one being the captain of the faith’s inquisition, and the other a warrior capable of manipulating fate. He then, either directly or indirectly, weakened the Carian household by emotionally devastating its matriarch into seclusion. He produced multiple heirs to replace Queen Marika and evolved the Golden Order by incorporating sorcery and intellect into its foundation. So, good job, Radagon.
Either way, considering that their relationship was known — at least in part — the incestuous implications make Godrick’s cut dialogue even funnier when he refers to Miquella and Malenia as “rank and malformed.” The byproducts of incest, unlike the gallant golden lions of his stock.
Also, a detail I remembered: the blonde-haired northerners are said to descend from the Giants. It’s possible that the curse of flame — and the red hue — faded or was bred out over time, resulting in their blonde hair. This made me think of Rykard. While his lighter hair could be attributed to Radagon’s genetics (as Marika’s other half), this little tidbit adds another layer of observation.
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The Nightlord Heolstor
I’m still undecided on my thoughts regarding the Nightlord, mostly because there’s a lot of dialogue and items I haven’t yet read, but I do have some opinions so far.
First, regarding his name — it’s actually “Nameless,” lol. Heolstor seems to be a name applied by the localization team, but he is, in fact, a Nameless Nightlord. What we do know is that this “King” was once a knight whose country was laid to ruin by an unnamed Hero and, presumably, their allies. This knight rose from a field of corpses and cursed the world — and thereafter, in the dead of night, it began to rain.
I don’t completely understand the Night just yet, but it seems to have a will of its own that is sometimes separate from those of its vessel-vassals — the Nightlords. It’s an alluring darkness that encompasses all, and how it shapes the world is somewhat dependent on those who interact with it. Some people fear the Night, whereas others attempt to seize it. Libra, for example, likes the Night because he believes it’s impartial, which suits his ideals of equilibrium. Even Revenant was taken in by the Night because it was “sweet.” The Night, through the will of its hosts, becomes a calamity — eroding time, landmasses, memories, etc. It may be an Outer God… maybe not. There’s still a lot I don’t know.



Heolstor, aka “Nameless,” has a very interesting design — he looks warped to hell. He has four limbs, and his armor splits and expands. One thing to note about his design is that the palms of at least two of his hands are impaled by other weapons — and they don’t look as worn as his own sword. One is a jeweled dagger, the other a moonlight greatsword. His body is tightly bound in cloth, with a golden sealing script written across it. The Iron Menial apparently recognized this script… which makes me think that previous warriors — the bearers of the weapons driven through his hands — attempted to seal or kill him, possibly with the aid of the Two Fingers or their holy script.

The intro suggests that all of this occurred as a result of the Elden Ring’s shattering and the war that followed, which created a cavern in the ocean — presumably where the Night, or an aspect of it, emerged.
There are a few more things worth noting. For instance, the Recluse’s magic-born child somehow sought an audience with Heolstor to satisfy its hunger — it intended to eat his shadow — but is now so closely bound to the Nightlord that her child is considered to be the Nightlord. Or how the Nightlord apparently gave the Iron Menial the bone of an Outer God in his dream, which has the ability to dispel divinities (and he also makes a comment about how gods can shape the world around them).
Just… thoughts on what I’ve read so far.
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Honestly, I like to imagine she was imprisoned because she somehow made contact with the power of the Crucible in an age when such a thing was taboo—i.e., the enslavement of Misbegotten or the demonization of horns. By the way, her “Crucible contact” comes from version 1.00 of his Remembrance, which is narratively unchanged from the base game. It’s just more explicit and written almost like a novelization, albeit of their current Remembrance quests.
The Executor — two people, wielding one blade.

There was once a wandering samurai, a woman from the Land of Reeds, far to the east. She held a deep regard for the natural world, with a particular reverence for flowers. A flower’s rooted purpose was to survive and propagate, and the woman gave shape to this reverence through her paintings. Her wandering journey ended upon her arrival to the Lands Between. She looked up at the sky and was entranced, lost for words at the sight of the transcendent Erdtree. Out of gratitude, she hoped to one day lay down her life before this grand spiritual marvel. The samurai then noticed that the Crucible of Life, the primordial origin of the Erdtree, had found purchase within her.
The woman stayed in a dilapidated shack upon the Altus Plateau—her “studio”—where she would paint. Flowers flush with grace would grow in her studio. She was imprisoned here for a crime, and a man, a Crucible Knight of Ordovis, was her executioner, standing by as a “guest” in her home. She painted the Erdtree, inspired by what she saw, and the knight would delay her execution until the painting was finished.
At times she would rest, taking a break to instead sketch her katana as a study, which she thought of as her silent old friend from her homeland. In time, she entrusted this blade to her executioner and resumed progress upon her Erdtree painting. However, she realized that the painting would not be finished in time before another executioner was sent to fulfill the duty that the first could not. So she instead began painting a portrait of her executioner, who by that point could not choose whether to execute the woman. But the moment of the end would come to pass.
The samurai’s executioner, whom she had come to regard as her guest, slew the second executioner outside the studio—a fellow Crucible Knight—who had at last killed the woman for her crime. Standing over the woman’s body, her guest held her blade and performed a forbidden technique called Seppuku, plunging the blade into his stomach, his body toppling over hers.
Neither the criminal woman nor the Crucible Knight have been seen since. Upon awakening, now as one—armor fused onto flesh—they picked up their blade in the aftermath, stained with gold and blood. A cursed blade that feeds on battle.
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