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Giancarlo Diago Cevallos
An author & journalist
Altus Plateau I
The Altus Plateau, home to Leyndell, capital of Marika's empire. The Erdtree's golden garden.
First, though, some places I must check.
First, though, some places I must check.
A merchant had told me rumors of a pot village. I thought he had gone mad! But this is the jolliest hamlet in all the Lands Between.
I returned to Gurranq, feeding him that deathroot he loves. Snarling hermit, he should explore more.
In Altus, Melina spoke to me again of her vow to reach the Erdtree, to find her mother and her purpose. For me, her companionship is reason enough to exist.
The golden forces fight jealously. So, the Night Cavalry do serve gold...
That Margit fellow mentioned the night would hunt me. Do these dark knights serve him? But then, is Margit still alive...
That Margit fellow mentioned the night would hunt me. Do these dark knights serve him? But then, is Margit still alive...
The omens, so I hear, are haunted by wraiths in their dreams. When awake they fight omenkillers, when asleep they drown in nightmares.
So I meet Millicent again! She claims that a prosthetic would let her wield a sword again, to replace her lost arm. Not sure where I could find one...
Millicent is following Malenia's march north, feeling some kinship with that demigod. Rotten lineage, I thtink.
Millicent is following Malenia's march north, feeling some kinship with that demigod. Rotten lineage, I thtink.
In the Second Church of Marika, I found a familiar face bleeding. Yura, bloody finger hunter. He finally found his beloved Eleonora, who has gone mad with Mohg's blood-frenzy.
I fight violence, even over corpses, with mother's black flames. Justice as ruins. Eleonora will slay no more, I will hunt her master one day.
These dreadful wormfaces vomit deathblight to the air, infecting a minor Erdtree. The area is surrounded by deathblight roots, yet I still see no source... is it below?
Trading shots with a malformed falling star, in abandoned mines.
Dominula, the windmill village. The ladies cheer and dance with butcher's axes. They seem experts of flaying...
Another of my younger siblings, a Godskinner. As hostile as the rest. What was he doing here?
I doubt they truly flayed demigods, as most were killed by Black Knife assassins. Perhaps just peasant skin, stolen for fashion.
I doubt they truly flayed demigods, as most were killed by Black Knife assassins. Perhaps just peasant skin, stolen for fashion.
A path through a pass near Mt. Gelmir. I do not plan to visit volcano, my target is Leyndell, but Shaded Castle is this way.
Their inhabitants love Malenia, apparently. Perhaps they could help Millicent.
Ha! Silly me, I want to burn the world, no need to bother helping folk.
Then, I never was smart.
Their inhabitants love Malenia, apparently. Perhaps they could help Millicent.
Ha! Silly me, I want to burn the world, no need to bother helping folk.
Then, I never was smart.
The Shaded Castle, sunk in a poisonous bog. Fumes clog the air.
The inhabitants are as rotten as the bog.
House Marais was a home of executioners; filled with sickly offspring who worshiped the afflicted Malenia.
Elemer of the Briar, sentenced to death, slaughtered his executioners and stole their treasures. I admire his boldness.
But Millicent needs that prosthetic, which Marais kept as a relic of Malenia. Elemer must die.
Elemer of the Briar, sentenced to death, slaughtered his executioners and stole their treasures. I admire his boldness.
But Millicent needs that prosthetic, which Marais kept as a relic of Malenia. Elemer must die.
Back at the Roundtable Hold, I met the foul Dung-eater. He hates everyone and eyes me hungrily. He would bloody and curse everyone here, if the Hold's spell of peace did not stop him.
Godefrey the Grafted, locked in an evergoal in Altus. As polite as his descendant Godrick, and as deserving of the same fate.
The outer gates of Leyndell.
Altus Plateau II
Another Onyx Lord, in the root-strewn mines of Altus. Embedded in the floor is meteorite fragments; these onyx-skinned truly did crash here from the stars.
A pity for them, to arrive only to suffer alongside the rest of the Lands Between, to be burned in my rampage.
A pity for them, to arrive only to suffer alongside the rest of the Lands Between, to be burned in my rampage.
The Minor Erdtree Church, with a Golden Order Seal beside it. The Golden Order, under Radagon, attempted to meld faith and intelligence. To unite disparate parts into one.
But, rather than meld to order, could melding lead to chaos? A primordial stew of fury and fire...
But, rather than meld to order, could melding lead to chaos? A primordial stew of fury and fire...
An ulcerated tree spirit.
The omen Margit returns, certainly an illusion. In this Shattering-wrecked field strew with golem arrows, we dueled again.
Why does an omen, persecuted and shunned by Marika's empire, defend Leyndell?
I will surely meet the caster soon.
Why does an omen, persecuted and shunned by Marika's empire, defend Leyndell?
I will surely meet the caster soon.
A draconic tree sentinel, his armor and arms forged from dragon bone and clad in their red lightning. I bested him, but he gave as good as he got.
The final wall surrounding the capital. I am close.
Between ash and rubble, I rush to enter.
Leyndell, the royal capital. Oracles play their trumpets, heralding the coming of a new age, hopefully mine.
The Erdtree seems split between solid, brown bark and gold. Reminds me of illusions, which are always gold.
The Erdtree is rumoured to have once burned, with the current being an illusion. Based on the ash piles clogging the capital, with doors sealed shut with wax, that may be true.
Draconic Gransax, successful attacker of Leyndell, lies dead with his bolt there. I will follow his example, minus the death.
The Erdtree seems split between solid, brown bark and gold. Reminds me of illusions, which are always gold.
The Erdtree is rumoured to have once burned, with the current being an illusion. Based on the ash piles clogging the capital, with doors sealed shut with wax, that may be true.
Draconic Gransax, successful attacker of Leyndell, lies dead with his bolt there. I will follow his example, minus the death.
Another guardian felled. The golden domes, paved streets, bountiful statues, might admire this place, if I wasn't its enemy.
Even the bridges here are roots.
A golden illusion of Earthshatterer Godfrey, the first Tarnished.
On my journey, I heard rumors that Leyndell's mysterious king, Morgott, never shows his face. This illusion reminds me of the omen illusions I have faced.
I suspect who the king is.
On my journey, I heard rumors that Leyndell's mysterious king, Morgott, never shows his face. This illusion reminds me of the omen illusions I have faced.
I suspect who the king is.
Ancient fingereader corpses line the bridge leading to Queen Marika's bedchambers. This is the reward for their faith.
Morgott, the Omen King. The Erdtree's greatest defender; but as an omen, one of its greatest victims. As we bled and battled, he lamented how his blood stained the shattered thrones.
This is an ultimate cruelty, when the victim believes his suffering was right and just.
This is an ultimate cruelty, when the victim believes his suffering was right and just.
My answer, to his shriveled corpse. In death, at least, his horns have vanished.
Unfortunately, the Erdtree is blockaded by spines. Their lattice design reminds me of Radagon's symbol, behind his statues. This may be his fault.
Melina, after having declared her purpose fulfilled when we reached Leyndell, proposed a new journey. To the Mountaintops of the Giants; whose flame may burn the Erdtree. With the defenses ash, we could assault.
So, we begin again.
Melina, after having declared her purpose fulfilled when we reached Leyndell, proposed a new journey. To the Mountaintops of the Giants; whose flame may burn the Erdtree. With the defenses ash, we could assault.
So, we begin again.
Boc the seamster, back to help! After a round of tailoring, he mentioned an idea to me. He wanted a larval egg, such as I have collected, to petition Fullmoon Rennala for rebirth. To undo his grisly face.
Truthfully, given my own appearance, the idea has tempted me too. But mother's words always stopped me, even if I do not believe her. Perhaps repeating them will comfort Boc.
Truthfully, given my own appearance, the idea has tempted me too. But mother's words always stopped me, even if I do not believe her. Perhaps repeating them will comfort Boc.
"You're beautiful."
Boc is happy, vowing to stay the same and serve me faithfully. He believes I should be Elden Lord.
Though, we both have faces only our mothers ever loved. Even I hated my face. Maybe... no more.
Boc is happy, vowing to stay the same and serve me faithfully. He believes I should be Elden Lord.
Though, we both have faces only our mothers ever loved. Even I hated my face. Maybe... no more.
To begin to the Mountaintops, I took the North Leyndell gate. The streets beyond are ash-clogged.
A misbegotten, praying to a maiden.
Ever closer to a new goal.
Altus Plateau III
The path to the Mountaintops is lined with gates and sentinels. The Golden Order want none to ascend. As if the snow up high was a prison.
The snow-strewn path to above. All I want is up there; runes, heretical flames, revenge...
Yet, back in Leyndell, I still hear the sizzling. Deep. Calling...
Yet, back in Leyndell, I still hear the sizzling. Deep. Calling...
I sense, though I do not know what beckons, that I must dig deeper. In Leyndell's streets, I battled an Omen Killer. Yet, no omens. So why is he here...?
I spot an well nearby.
I spot an well nearby.
Down the well, locked gates. Dark, rats, filth and sewage await. These are no ordinary canals.
Omen, patrolling the sewers. Their horns grow wild and uncut, like Mohg's. For better and worse, these omens have lived underground.
Beings who have writhed in obscure pain no nothing of civility.
The Subterranean-Shunning Grounds. Sewer-prisons buried under Leyndell, where the unwanted and rejected are thrown to suffer in the dark.
Never have I hated the Golden Order more. For betraying all they deem heretical, all they judge ugly.
Never have I hated the Golden Order more. For betraying all they deem heretical, all they judge ugly.
A shattered wall led away from the vicious giant lobsters, to catacombs. Leyndell must have been built over these pre-Erdtree structures. Taking advantage of their construction, even while banning their ghostly flames.
Another omen, praying to a motherly statue before turning to me.
Ever deeper I descend.
This, surely, must be the bottom. Beyond lies a blood-drenched presence, which I recognize too well.
Mohg! Or, rather than the Lord of Blood, an illusion of him. Likely planted by Morgott to defeat any who would venture this far below.
Mohg's shackles are left here. Mohg was once, with his twin Morgott, a demigod child of Queen Marika and Lord Godfrey. As omen of noble blood, rather than have their horns cut or death, the twins were abandoned underground. While Morgott escaped and forgave Gold, Mohg found the Formless Mother. An outer god of blood who granted Mohg great power, loving him as Marika never did.
Mohg's shackles are left here. Mohg was once, with his twin Morgott, a demigod child of Queen Marika and Lord Godfrey. As omen of noble blood, rather than have their horns cut or death, the twins were abandoned underground. While Morgott escaped and forgave Gold, Mohg found the Formless Mother. An outer god of blood who granted Mohg great power, loving him as Marika never did.
So I reached the depths.
Yet the sizzling sounds...
Morgott placed that illusion down here not as a trap, but a guard. To prevent further descent.
Yet the sizzling sounds...
Morgott placed that illusion down here not as a trap, but a guard. To prevent further descent.
What could lay deeper than shunned omens and forgotten catacombs?
The sizzling has stopped, replaced by a sporadic, screeching string. The nomadic merchants, most who never escaped their tomb.
The corpses claw at their eyes, like those afflicted by Frenzied Flame.
Once, details here reveal, the merchants traveled as the Great Caravan. After being accused of heresy, they were buried alive. Here, in their final tomb, they chanted curses until the Flame of Frenzy came to them.
Once, details here reveal, the merchants traveled as the Great Caravan. After being accused of heresy, they were buried alive. Here, in their final tomb, they chanted curses until the Flame of Frenzy came to them.
Beyond, here in the deepest pit, lies a giant door I could not open. Melina came and warned to reject what lies beyond, to accept the power of the Flame of Frenzy.
To accept that this corrupt world deserves destruction.
That it deserves death.
No more births, no more life. Only unending, all-uniting fire and fury.
No, Melina, I must accept.
She severed ties with me, vowing revenge. No matter, even if I do suspect her true identity now.
To accept that this corrupt world deserves destruction.
That it deserves death.
No more births, no more life. Only unending, all-uniting fire and fury.
No, Melina, I must accept.
She severed ties with me, vowing revenge. No matter, even if I do suspect her true identity now.
Irina, that is, Hyetta, appeared as suddenly as she always has. She urged me to accept Frenzy, to have her be my maiden. To strip bare and sacrifice all I am. For power, for opportunity.
I understand. This is my duty, my destiny. The Flame of Frenzy will give all I ever wanted.
Ugliness will not exist in a world soldered together. Beauty will be a past thing. Only frenzy.
Altus Plateau IV
But as my metamorphosis comes, I remember Boc. Millicent. Jarburg. Running on the beach.
Those things... I will miss.
The Three Fingers, sizzling emissary of chaos.
It burns, but against a lifetime of torment, this is nothing.
Nothing...
Back to Irina, she recognizes me as her chosen Lady, fit to bless her eyes with my touch as the Three Fingers grasped me.
When her pain subsided, the revived corpse known as Hyetta spoke its will. Once, the Greater Will and Flame of Frenzy were one. All creation united.
Then came fracture and divergence. Pain and conflict, suffering. The Flame of Frezny agrees with us, all must be reunited, reduced to smoldering waste.
Then came fracture and divergence. Pain and conflict, suffering. The Flame of Frezny agrees with us, all must be reunited, reduced to smoldering waste.
This world does not deserve to continue. My maiden burned away. My pretend maiden, Melina, left.
I am all that is left for this crusade. To wield a power mother never dared to wield.
The Lands Between will know its new master, the Lord of Frenzy.
The Lands Between will know its new master, the Lord of Frenzy.
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