The air grew bitter as I stepped into Irithyll of the Boreal Valley. A city frozen in time, bathed in pale moonlight, its spires reaching like skeletal fingers into the heavens. The cold bit through my worn robes, but I welcomed it. This place, this frigid nightmare, would soon know the heat of my iron.
I had left my shield behind—trading it for something riskier, something that required more precision. A parrying shield. Blocking had always been a simple necessity, but this? This was different. This was control. The first few encounters were… messy. The knights of Irithyll were fast, relentless, their frostbitten blades as swift as the wind that howled through these cursed streets. But soon, I found the rhythm. The clang of metal on metal, the sharp recoil of a well-timed parry—it was intoxicating. Their arrogance shattered as I drove my soldering iron into their exposed flesh. The cold may have ruled this land, but my fire still burned.
Through abandoned courtyards and frozen bridges, I cut my way toward the great cathedral. Pontiff Sulyvahn awaited me, a self-proclaimed ruler of this forsaken city. His presence loomed over Irithyll, his towering figure bathed in the eerie glow of twin blades—one burning with fire, the other radiating frost. A contradiction. A fraud.
The fight was a dance of death. He struck fast, his blades a blur of fire and ice, demanding perfection in every movement. My whip alone was not enough—his armor was thick, and his rage was endless. But I was patient. Every step, every feint, every opening—I studied him. And when the time came, I met his fury with my own.
The first parry landed. His momentum halted, a moment of weakness exposed. My soldering iron found its mark, searing through his cursed flesh. He roared, conjuring a phantom of himself, a twisted mockery meant to overwhelm me. But two enemies meant twice the chances to strike. I baited, I waited—and I burned him again and again.
It did not take long. In only a few attempts, his body collapsed beneath my assault, his blades clattering uselessly to the floor. The so-called ruler of Irithyll lay broken at my feet. The cold remained, but its master had been dethroned.
I stepped forward, looking beyond the cathedral, toward the deeper horrors that awaited me. This city was merely a stepping stone. My hunt was far from over.
The whole dark adventure of jailer Farah: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQRPy70pDgKUglWnmbEvEa7c-qy5S0je_
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