Morgrim sighed softly as he made his way to the undead settlement, a bleak collection of dilapidated huts and fading memories of a former life. The old woman in Lothric had given him a hint that he might find more souls there – souls to add to his growing collection. As he looked at her scrawny, wrinkled neck, the temptation had been great to draw his blade and see what she was hiding. But something held him back, perhaps a spark of that reason that made him different from the other Darkwraiths.
The settlement itself was a sorry sight. Rotting figures stumbled around aimlessly, driven by a long-lost purpose. They searched for meaning in a world that had none left. The ravages of time had gnawed at them relentlessly, rotting flesh and dulling senses. The few who did not simply disintegrate fell into madness and took refuge in a crude faith, praying to idols and shadows as if they could escape the eternal cycle of decay and misery.
Morgrim wandered the empty streets, plundering the last treasures hidden in the ruins. In an underground vault, he finally discovered a soul, but it was not what he had been looking for. Not a Lord of Cinder, not a great warrior – just a lost soul, confused and broken, trapped just like the rest of this cursed place. It was disappointing, but also sobering. Even here, at the end of all things, people clung to faith and delusion as if they could escape the inevitable end.
With a last look at the undead settlement, Morgrim made his way to the Road of Sacrifices. The gloomy path would lead him past wild creatures and corrupted knights towards the cathedral. There, he hoped, he would finally meet a soul worth collecting – the soul of a lord that would bring him closer to his goal. For in a world engulfed by darkness, the search for power and understanding remains a lonely path that only a few can walk to the end.
Morgrims dark adventures can be viewed here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQRPy70pDgKXYbl6ZIm5hTn-3Oo4MKbzH
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