After a long break, El Kloppo descended into the Catacombs of Carthus – fists first, questions later. The air was thick with dust and old death, and the walls whispered of long-forgotten warriors who never made it back out. But El Kloppo? He walked in and never once hit the ground. Not even once.
It took a moment to shake off the rust, sure. But once the rhythm of combat returned, so did the grin. Trap-filled corridors, skeletons that wouldn’t stay dead, blades swinging from ceilings – all part of the warm-up. He danced through it all, fists cracking bone like dry wood, eyes locked ahead. No fear. No hesitation. Just the steady sound of knuckles meeting skull.
The boss fell like the rest. Another forgotten champion turned to dust beneath the fury of clenched fists. El Kloppo stood victorious, not a scratch worth remembering.
Then came Anri. Poor, stubborn Anri. She was looking for Horace, her companion – the silent one.
And El Kloppo, the ever-helpful bruiser, had seen him. Down below. Not quite right. Not exactly friendly. Definitely not chatty.
He tried to tell her. Really, he did.
“Hey, I saw your mute friend creeping around like a damn shadow in the pit,” he said.
But Anri wouldn’t listen. She just stared, distant, cold. Like the truth hurt more than she was ready to admit. Maybe she needs proof. Maybe she just doesn’t want to believe it.
El Kloppo shrugged. He’s not the talking type anyway. Fists are easier. Fists never lie.
All episodes of El Kloppo here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQRPy70pDgKWiBw6GhsYHv2v5pAWlUOtm
#DarkSouls3 #CatacombsOfCarthus #Fist #Caestus #FarronKeep #Carthus
