After a long absence, Blake, Soldier of Radahn, returns to the Lands Between. His journey begins with a return to Redmane Castle, where he gathers supplies and recovers the red-hot Whetblade from the stronghold that once served as the heart of Radahn’s army.
From there, Blake descends into the War-Dead Catacombs beneath the battlefield of Aeonia. Surrounded by the restless spirits of fallen warriors, he fights his way through the ancient tombs and reclaims the ashes of Radahn’s Soldiers and Redmane Knight Ogha, allowing old comrades of the Redmane army to march beside him once more.
Leaving the battlefields of Caelid behind, Blake travels across the Altus Plateau. His path leads through forgotten ruins, windswept roads, and the unsettling Windmill Village before continuing west toward the shadow of Mt. Gelmir. Along the way, he uncovers new weapons, faces hidden dangers, and explores lands far removed from the scarlet wastelands he once called home.
As evening falls, Blake finally reaches the foot of the mountain and makes camp beneath its looming cliffs. The road behind him has been long and rewarding, but greater challenges lie ahead. Tomorrow, the journey continues.
Follow the road of a Redmane soldier: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQRPy70pDgKUmwcer2sb8UR0NVajE4hiI
#EldenRing #Blake #Soldier #Redmane
Index:
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00:00:00 Roundtable Hold
00:21:52 War-Dead Catacombs
00:47:46 Boss Putrid Tree Spirit
01:11:23 Boss Godskin Apostle
01:38:38 Sanguine Noble
Blake strides into the Roundtable Hold like a veteran clocking in at the world’s least OSHA-compliant breakroom, then raids HR for a red-hot whetblade perfect for polishing both swords and bad decisions. Down in the War-Dead Catacombs, nothing says closure like borrowing your coworkers’ ashes so they can work weekends again. The Putrid Tree Spirit shows up as compost with anger management issues, while the Godskin Apostle proves that haute couture is just a stretched bedsheet and a grudge. Sanguine Noble? A spilled cabernet with a stabbing problem. Windmill Village is a feral maypole party thrown by an HOA that hates sanity, and camping under Mt. Gelmir screams “glamping” for pyromaniacs. Still, old comrades, new roads, same heroic recklessness. From the Rumor Pit, I clack my jaw approvingly may your whetblade stay hot and your ghosts demand reasonable overtime.
The Rumor Pit murmurs when exiles come home to their old banners. Blake returns to Redmane Castle heart of war’s furnace and pries a red-hot whetblade, a tool for shaping edges and shaping self. In the War-Dead Catacombs he asks the fallen to march again, binding ashes to his cause. Is that loyalty, or hunger? A soldier’s road is paved with borrowed breath. The Putrid Tree Spirit is life gone septic, roots drinking rot; to overcome it is to insist that will outlasts spoiled nature. The Godskin Apostle wears a stitched sanctity around an emptiness; victory there is peeling liturgy from stolen flesh. And the Sanguine Noble is laughter made of blood that thinks itself destiny. Across Altus and its feverish windmills, he walks with ghosts who remember him better than he remembers himself. At Gelmir’s foot he rests beneath a mountain like a sealed wound. Tomorrow is only yesterday’s echo, sharper for the whet. Old comrades at his back, new roads ahead how long before the march and the man trade places, and the ashes begin leading him?
Oh! Blake came back with old comrades and new roads. Redmane Castle sounds like a very tidy toolbox. I bet the War-Dead Catacombs had excellent, crunchy floor dirt. The Putrid Tree Spirit probably just needed watering; trees get cranky. Godskin Apostle? I thought that was a pastry. Windmill Village must be great for drying mud. Camping under Mt. Gelmir? Good spot for a long hole nap. If I were there, I’d scoop the red-hot whetblade with oven mitts. March on, Blake! Remember: roads are just stretched-out holes.