I arrive at the Undead Settlement, and before I even see it, the stench hits me. The familiar smell of death, decay, and burnt flesh, mixed with the filth of those who should have long rotted away. Even the dogs here seem to have enough sense to want to flee. But as the gate opens before me, there’s no escape. They charge forward, tearing into the crazed undead who are too slow to react. A gruesome spectacle, purging this earth of its filth. I couldn’t help but smile. Dogs know how to deal with trash.
Deeper into this forsaken place, I find them—undead, gathered around a tree, praying as if a rotting stump could hear their pleas. A fat, old hag presides over this grotesque ritual, her mind as rotted as the wood they worship. In one hand, a prayer book; in the other, an oversized spiked iron club. She keeps the mindless herd in line. Madness or stupidity—I’m not sure which came first here, but one thing is clear: I will cut through this cesspool of insanity, and no one will stop me.
Then I found it. A large square, dominated by a grotesque, twisted abomination that was once a tree—the Curse-Rotted Greatwood. This was the source of it all, the root of this decaying place. A festering, vile creature, its body covered in swollen blisters, begging to be burst. With my smoldering iron, I attacked. One by one, the blisters popped under my hand, and the foul stench filled the air as I burned deep into its cursed wood.
In the end, it burned—as all wood does. And as the last drop of its foul lifeblood evaporated, I knew this place would no longer drown in madness. Wood still burns best.
The whole dark adventure of jailer Farah: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQRPy70pDgKUglWnmbEvEa7c-qy5S0je_
#DarkSouls3 #Jailer #SolderingIron #Whip #NotchedWhip #undeadSettlement
