Dancing village elden ring

Cover Art!
Just because you’re transported to another world, doesn’t mean you’ll escape from your pain.
Abused by her parents, thirteen-year-old Frances only wants to be safe and for her life not to hurt so much. And when she and her class are transported to the magical world of Durannon to fight the monsters invading the human kingdoms and defeat the self-titled Demon King, Frances is presented with a golden opportunity. If she succeeds, Frances will have the home she never had. If she fails, Frances will be summoned back to the home she escaped.
Yet, despite her newfound magic and friends, Frances finds that trauma is not so easily lost. She is dogged by her abuse and its physical and invisible scars. Not only does she have to learn magic, she has to survive the nightmares of her past, and wrestle with her feelings of doubt and self-loathing.
If she can heal from her trauma, though, she might be able to defeat the Demon King and maybe, just maybe, she can find a home for herself.
Teaser: The fall of the Traditionalists
[The Beginning] [<=Chapter 189] [Chapter Index and Blurb] [Chapter 191 on June 12 or now on patreon]
The Fractured Song Index
Discord Channel Just let me know when you arrive in the server that you’re a Patreon so you can access your special channel.
The flares had gone up, but the gates remained shut. Martin hadn’t stopped staring at them since the troops had moved into position. He’d only paused to blink.
It was unlikely they’d been betrayed. The Water Tower had fallen to their forces after all. That being said, there were always delays in military operations—
Martin blinked. The gates were swinging open.
“Alright everybody! Up and at them. Mages, smoke us up! Musketeers suppressing fire!”
Cheers rang out along the line as puffs and clouds of mist and smoke began to shroud the Lightning Battalion. Horns blared as the wave of soldiers charged.
Martin was at the head of them, shield raised. He knew his kit was a little archaic, but frankly he could use the extra protection at the moment.
As they neared the gatehouse, Martin could hear sounds of battle within. As he made it over the drawbridge and into the building he could see a ring of soldiers marked with blue and red armbands trying to defend the opened second gate against a flood of soldiers coming from the main castle building.
“For Erisdale!” Martin bellowed.
He and the Lightning Battalion plunged into the melee with troops flooding through the gatehouse,.. Martin managed to slam his shield into one of Darius’s soldiers and stab them, before stepping back to look around.
Already he had teams of soldiers rushing up to help with those fighting in the gatehouse proper. Musketeers were taking position and the mages they had were casting spells at the incoming reinforcements.
There were a lot of Darius’s troops coming, though. They were rushing out of every door, and from every tower to concentrate on the breach.
Martin grimaced. He was sure that he was going to break through at some point, but it would take time. The rest would have to be up to Jessica’s team.
“Come on! We’re nearly there,” said Elizabeth.
Leaning heavily on her, Leila limped as fast as she could. They’d healed her as much as they could but she was still exhausted from the ordeal she’d suffered.
“Why don’t you just carry me—” Leila cut herself off with a Word of Power. Several soldiers were running down road leading to the Citadel, trying to intercept the pair. A fireball erupted from in front of them and smashed into the unfortunate enemies, blasting them off their feet. Leila waved Elizabeth’s arched eyebrow off. “Nevermind. Give me a moment.”
“Yeah, hard to cast if you’re being carried.” Elizabeth paushed to look behind, down toward the city. The way the Traditionalist defense line had been structured was that it left a protected section of the city between the Citadel and the Water Tower.
Before her eyes, Erlenbergian ships were pulling into the harbour, disgorging hundreds of marines and mages that stormed into the city. The Traditionalist forces that had been attempting to retake the Water Tower were now flanked. It would take time however, until they could take control of the area and make their way to the Citadel.
But at least at this moment, the gate that led up to the Citadel proper was unguarded, the drawbridge down. The soldiers having been stripped to defend the city and the main gatehouse or try to secure the harbour.
“You ready?” Elizabeth asked, glancing at Leila.
The Otherworlder shook her head. “Nope, but I need to be at Janize’s side,” she croaked out.
Elizabeth giggled. “Well, since you are hopelessly in love with her. Let’s get you there.”
Leila rolled her eyes. “Fuck you,” she stammered, but she was unable to help herself from smiling.
Scarlet was damn good and tricky to fight against. The head of the Red Order had stored a number of spells into her magical rings, which she used to vary up her arsenal. Fireballs would be followed by vines sprouting from the ground. The earth would suddenly ice up, followed by gusts of wind that would try to knock Ayax off her feet. She was also very fast, and Ayax found herself dancing around Darius’s garden, using whatever cover she could and shields to keep herself safe.
The problem was that as the fight drew on and Scarlet continued to keep throwing spells, the outcome of the fight became clearer and clearer.
Ayax was not the head of a mage order. She didn’t quite have the extensive magical equipment that Scarlet had in her possession. Scarlet also had a powerful magical gift and the cost of it was not a mobility impairment. Leila had told Ayax that Scarlet was missing an eyeball, having replaced her missing eye with a glass replica.
That pupil-less eyeball now glimmered at Ayax as the troll returned Scarlet’s fireball with a larger fireball of her own, forcing the mage to take cover behind a statue of a knight that was blasted apart. Scarlet stepped out to cast, but Ayax was faster, she had already thrown several magical cards. They slammed into the red-robed mage, crackling and popping, smoke and sparks blinding the woman. She barely managed to get a shield up but instead of hitting her again, Ayax paused for a split second before throwing more cards.
These hit Scarlet clean again and she screamed as she staggered, firing magical bolts wildly. Ayax practically just sidled behind a tree and watched the mage pant as she gathered her own power.
No, Ayax had none of Scarlet’s money or ability, but she did have years of seeing the most intense frontline combat of the Great War. She had trained against the most powerful mages of her time, Edana and Frances Windwhistler. She was a gifted mage in her own right with unparalleled athleticism and grace. And to top it all off, she had read Scarlet’s rhythm of casting and was now very much in it and messing with her.
Oh and she’d exhausted Scarlet by making her cast all the spells she had.
So when Ayax threw Frances’s lightning spell over her shoulder, Scarlet only barely blocked it. The woman was knocked backwards and slammed into the perimeter wall of the mansion.
Ayax was soon charging after her. Scarlet managed to fire a torrent of water at her, but the troll sang, drawing up a wind that lent speed to her step and pulling up a mound of earth that blocked the jet. She ducked under the woman’s clumsy attempt to cast a slashing spell at her, and slammed her staff into Scarlet’s head.
Blood poured from the cut across her skull, and the woman crumpled to the ground. Her glass eyeball popped out from the force of the blow, rolling onto the glass. For good measure, Ayax grabbed Scarlet’s wand and pocketed it. She also cast a binding spell that would stick the woman’s arms and legs together so she couldn’t get up.
Then she stared.
One of her parent’s killers was lying in front of her, unconscious and helpless. Scarlet wouldn’t even know if Ayax cut her throat with a dagger. It was more mercy than she deserved.
Biting her lip so hard Ayax thought she was going to cut herself, she turned on her heel. The troll forced marched herself away, thinking of her dear Elizabeth and how she needed help.
Step after step turned into a run and soon Ayax was racing down the city streets for the gate leading to the Citadel.
As she rounded a corner, she saw a column of soldiers fast-marching, also towards the main castle.
“Ayax!” called out a very filthy red-haired woman.
The troll ran up to her friend. “Ginger, oh dear, that was a horrible trip wasn’t it?” Ayax asked as she took in Ginger’s odor.
“Yes. I strongly advise you don’t touch me,” said Ginger. She tilted her head to another approaching mage, whose orange dress quickly gave up her identity.
“Ophelia Voidsailor, good to see you in person!” Ayax exclaimed, clasping her fellow Erlenbergian’s deformed hand.
“Ayax Windwhistler. We never settled who won the Winter Tournament did we?” Ophelia asked.
“I conceded to you if I recall.”
“Bah! That doesn’t count! I want a rematch once this is all over!” Ophelia giggled. She coughed into her fist. “We’ve secured the harbour and the Water Tower. The Traditionalist’s remaining forces are running to the Citadel.”
“Excellent, lets hope Janize holds out long enough for us to get there,” said Ginger, starting to jog again.
It was terribly un-queenly behaviour and perhaps didn’t do the best for the morale of her soldiers, but Janize decided not to sit in her throne. Rather, she was using the very large chair as cover and had opted to sit on a simple wooden chair.
Even then she wasn’t entirely safe and despite herself, she couldn’t help but hold onto a bunch of her crimson hair, as she desperately attempted to keep her breathing level.
Erisdale’s throne room featured the standard long hallway leading up to an upraised dais and two thrones. It also had a second-level gallery meant for nobles to be able to gather and watch the proceedings. This gallery comprised of two large rooms open to the throne room itself. Sculpted stone railings kept the onlookers safe. Underneath the upper galleries were two covered hallways which functioned as ways for people to go up and down the the throneroom without just walking through the main hall.
Normally, there were ways to get to the upper galleries, but the soldiers loyal to Janize had barricaded these entrances. They could not however, barricade the stairways to the entrances that were near the throne room’s main entrance and led up to the galleries. Their defense relied on them holding the throne room’s main front.
Naturally, that had been the focus of the assault by Darius and his soldiers.
“Master George, I distinctly recall you informing me the Throne room was the safest in the Citadel?” Janize mused ass stray bullets whizzed over their heads.
Crouched down beside her behind an upturned table, George smiled wanly. “Yes. It has enough space to hold the soldiers loyal to you, and the entrances can easily be blocked off. The other barricaded entrances can also be opened if we want to make a break for it. So yes, this is the safest place when you consider the other option is your personal chambers which can’t hold all your guards.” Fluidly rising to his feet, George fired a musket down and reloaded. “Hang tight, I’m going to check on the other barricades.”
Janize nodded slowly. She was getting a bit better at not wincing at every crack and whine from the spells and bullets that were sailing through the throne room door. That had been the first to fall and followed by a charge from the Traditionalists. However, the numerous barricades of tables and furniture that had been stacked to form several lines had checked the enemy’s advance.
So a vicious melee had developed at the entrance, with both sides firing guns and spells over the tops of each other’s heads. Janize was no military tactician, but she knew that if Darius’s soldiers gained the galleries, they were in deep trouble. They were also losing those galleries.
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at Leila. They were now in the castle proper which was unsurprisingly deserted. The non-combatants having fled or hid. “Leila, where are we going. The throne room’s front door is not this way.”
“Yes, but unless you want to get completely fucked by the mass of troops probably fighting there, we’re going to have to break in to help them—” Leila stopped so quickly, Elizabeth nearly dragged her forward.
A column of soldiers were spilling out from one of the corridors into the hall. Their boots were caked in indescribable brown stuff and from this distance, Leila and Elizabeth could smell where they had come from.
At the head of the group of soldiers was a blonde woman with a cat mask. Thier were both Alavari and human and they all had light-blue armbands or hauberks emblazoned with a silver lightning symbol.
“Jessica?” Leila whispered.
“Leila, it’s been a long time.” The masked Otherworlder’s reply was cool. Elizabeth did notice a tremor in her voice.
“Jess, I’m so sorry. I was an idiot and I—”
Tearing off her mask, Jessica took several long steps to Leila and seized her in an embrace. “I missed you.”
Leila couldn’t help but cry. “I missed you too—OW!”
Jessica had flicked Leila’s forehead with a finger. Smiling, crying and scowling at the same time. “Also, fuck you for trying to blast me, several times.”
“Sorry,” Leila croaked.
Jessica gently stroked Leila’s hair. “And I’m sorry for calling you a monster.”
Leila managed a watery giggle. “I deserved it.”
The pair laughed and let go of one another. “Right, which way to save your queen? Also, you alright? You look like a wreck,” said Jessica.
“This way.” Leila said, leaning on Jessica’s shoulder for support. “Oh wow you really did crawl through a sewer.”
“Eat shit, or did you already?”
Jessica snorted. “Fuck you.”
“Glad to see you getting along, but how are we going to make sure we take down a barricade without getting shot at?” Elizabeth asked.
“You’ll see!” warbled Leila.
After dispatching a band of Traditionalist soldiers, they’d come to a doorway that looked fairly ordinary but as Leila laid her hands on the wall it shimmered. “Yo, George! Don’t shoot! Reinforcements are here!”
A slot in the door opened up and there was quick peek. From the other side they heard a great sigh of relief.
“Thank God, get in here.” Their was some scrabbling and the door swung open to reveal the blonde-haired Otherworlder warrior. “They’re making another push. Good thing you remembered the designated escape hatch.”
“Ah, you left an emergency exit, a sally port. Good idea,” said Elizabeth. “Musketeers to the galleries and check your powder before you start shoting. Jessica, Leila, get to the queen. I want a section to guard the sally.”
There was a thunderous bellow from the outside of the throne room. Then another louder one.
“They’re hyping themselves up. This is it!” George bellowed. “Leila get to the queen!”
“Holdup.” Jessica picked Leila up and leapt off the railing. Her friend screamed as they dropped down, only slowing at the last minute due to Jessica’s spell.
George stared at the pair for a moment, but Elizabeth had grabbed onto him and was dragging him. “Let’s get to the front, hurry!”
Janize peaked behind her throne. “Leila!”
The queen was soon embraced by the shaking Otherworlder. “I’m sorry. This is um, Jessica.”
“A pleasure I’m sure, but we are in a dicey spot.” Jessica ushered the pair behind the throne and began casting. Leila soon joining her.
A flood of armored knights had forced the throne room’s entrance. The sheer mass of the column was overwhelming the defenders at the entrance. Leila could see George and Elizabeth fighting furiously back to back against the tide. Elizabeth’s war hammer taking out a knight with every swing, whilst George’s spear flickered into weakspots and gaps in enemy armor like a snake. Far above on the right gallery, the Lightning Battalion’s musketeers were raining musket and magefire down on them.
Yet Darius’s troops were forcing themselves up the staircase to the left side gallery, which didn’t have the additional Lightning Battalion troops.
“Jess! Left side!” Leila hissed.
“I know, shit!” The pair turned their attention to the gallery on the left, unleashing fireballs and bolts of magic. That kept any attackers and musketeers who wanted to shoot back pinned down, but they had a mage on the left gallery that kept shielding their attacks.
It also meant the flood of attackers pouring through the throne room doors only increased.
“Elizabeth where the fuck are your troops!” Leila screamed.
Ayax knew she wasn’t going through the front door, but after running around the throne room’s upper galleries she was wondering if there was any other way in.
As she hammered on a final door, a familiar human face peeked through the slot.
“Captain!”
“Helen, good to see you!”
“Get in here and duck!” Ayax’s adjutant opened the door and lead the troll into the throne room. She instantly could see that things were not going well. Musketeers filled the gallery opposing them they were ducking behind a black-haired mage’s shield due to Leila and Jessica shooting at them. However, that meant Jessica and Leila weren’t casting at the knights charging through the throne room.
Ayax could glimpsed Elizabeth locked in a duel with another knight that she dispatched, another Otherworlder protecting her flanks. The pair were pulling back, though and the Lightning Battalion soldiers trying to come down the gallery stairs were forced to come in single line
And Traditionalist forces kept pushing. No matter how many were shot dead, the armored men and women were storming forward, stepping over the bodies of dead comrades with a desperate, furious pace. At the centre of the column was a man surrounded by the biggest and burliest knights Ayax had ever seen and with gold-trimmed armour.
It was Darius and he was in her sight. Ayax blinked, started forward and shook her head. He wasn’t the priority. He couldn’t be the priority. She could see black magic leaking out from her hand, but she forcefully kept her gaze on the gallery.
Taking a deep breath Ayax bellowed, “Clear the way!” Running forward, Words of Power pouring from her lips, she leapt over the railing.
Elizabeth was very nearly distracted by a glimpse of her girlfriend doing a superhero impression as she flew across the top of the Throne Room, carried by her magic. Ayax, her staff punched forward like a spear, slammed into the first musketeer she saw. The Traditonalists ran, trying to make space but that also gave space for Ayax to run after the panicked looking black haired mage.
Whirling her staff around, she slammed him so hard he crashed into the wall with a sickening thud. Then she was hitting the musketeers, sending them flying with her strikes. Even so, musket balls screeched by her, nearly missing her. More musketeers were pointing their weapons at her.
A massive fireball slammed into the railing, setting enemy uniforms aflame. Ayax glanced over the railing to see Leila give her a brief wave before turning back to keep firing at Earl Darisus’s guards. The troll blinked, but there was no time to contemplate, she had to keep fighting. Leaping forward, she sent another human soldier flying. Torquing around, she ducked under a bayonet stab and punted a human woman into a wall.
When she turned around to look for another opponent, Ayax froze. The remaining musketeers were fleeing, retrating down the gallery stairs and away from her. However, there was a blonde haired woman on the gallery with a fox-fur lined coat. She was aiming a musket, but not at Ayax. Instead, she was pointing it toward the dais of the throne.
Ayax’s eyes immediately took in the trajectory of the musket and the scowling dark-haired Otherworlder she was pointing it at. Leila, while taking cover from the bullets and bolts of magic from the main entrance’s direction, was exposed to the woman’s shot.
I could let her. It wouldn’t be me. It’d be an accident. Janize can’t blame us for a battle. We’d still have her surrender.
Besides, Leila doesn’t deserve to live. Why should she live after all the wrongs she’s committed? Why shouldn’t I just let her die.
Nobody would know. Few would care.
Ayax glanced down at her hands and at her staff. There was no black magic pooling around her. It was just her. Her decision to save or let die, the woman who killed her mother.
This was a woman who’d apologized and promised to let her do whatever she wanted to her. Who sought not her own safety but to protect the life and the child of the one she loved.
Ayax bit her lip and charged the enemy musketeer. However, her hesitation had cost her. She could see the musketeer pulling the trigger. There was no time for a Word of Power. Ayax slammed into her the musketeer. The weapon cracked, the bullet whizzing off course as Ayax pushed the woman over the railing.
But the screaming woman now grabbed onto Ayax and the troll found herself tumbling over.
Acting on instinct, the troll seized her enemy with both hands, her cat-like tail twisting to try to direct their momentum. The pair fell down, but Ayax was managing to get her legs atop the woman. Acting more on instinct, Ayax leapt off the musketeer, slammed into a Traditionalist knight and rolled clumsily over the ground.
Dazed by the impact, her sides and wrists screaming with pain, Ayax could just hear a stomach-churning thud. She chanced a glance and immediately looked away. The woman was very clearly dead, having hint the stone floor headfirst.
It was then she saw that standing over her was the heavily armoured Earl Darius halted dead in his tracks. He lifed his visor, and Ayax could see that despite the sweat that trickled down his face, his eyes remained wide with horror and rage.
“You killed her. You killed my daughter!” Roaring like a wounded animal, Darius swung down at Ayax with his sword. She managed to get her staff up, the metal chomping into the wood. Again and again the Earl brought his weapon down. Aching, exhausted and far far too close for comfort, Ayax scrabbled back, trying to escape. But the earl was possessed with grief and fury and the desperation of a cornered animal.
“Die! Die! Die and join your father and mother!”
Author’s Note: Oh dear, so Ayax has gotten over her anger, but… she pissed off Darius anyway!

I always like to roleplay when playing Elden Ring, as it just makes the whole experience better. Now it’s time for a new playthrough, and I need inspiration.
So what I mean by «lore accurate» is that I like to place my character in the world as something with meaning. For example, I have already played these characters:

• Northerner born with red hair and giantsblood (pyromancer, firemonk)
  
• INT-trickster from Sellia, whos goal is to learn everything about the stars and seeks the primeval current
  

Now examples of non lore accurate roleplaying would be as characters like Kratos, Darth Maul, dovahkiin and such.
Any tips are appreciated!

I always like to roleplay when playing Elden Ring, as it just makes the whole experience better. Now it’s time for a new playthrough, and I need inspiration.
So what I mean by «lore accurate» is that I like to place my character in the world as something with meaning. For example, I have already played these characters:

• Northerner born with red hair and giantsblood (pyromancer, firemonk)
  
• INT-trickster from Sellia, whos goal is to learn everything about the stars and seeks the primeval current
  

Now examples of non lore accurate roleplaying would be as characters like Kratos, Darth Maul, dovahkiin and such.
Any tips are appreciated!

Hi, so me and my boyfriend [of 4 years] were at an outside birthday-celebration of a man that is somehow related to my boyfriend's family. There were at least 50 people and I didn't know most of them (also not many young people).
Me, my boyfriend and his sister [19F] sat on a free bench at a free table. We three were chatting about some random things. His sister then left and I kept talking to my boyfriend alone. As I was speaking, he kept looking around. I stopped talking, because he seemed like he wasn't paying attention. He quickly glanced at me and said ,,I am listening." and then continued looking around. It felt cold, so I summed up my sentence so I would finish talking and decided to not talk to him about random stuff anymore that evening (I didn't get mad, I just felt ignored).
So then we were sitting there in silence next to each other, but he was facing the other way and kept looking at people around. Later I went to our car to put on some warmer clothes, and when I came back, I saw him standing in a group of 4 people - with his sister, some girl and a woman they know. He was smiling and laughing, happily conversating, so my thought was that he needed other people to enjoy that evening (but he seemed to be way more interested in chatting with his sister than myself tho). I joined them and the event just continued.
Later we sat down to a full table with people we know from village and his relatives, and his face and mood lit up again. Sometimes, everyone left - either to drink, dance or whatever, and at those times when we were sitting there alone, his face switched to bored, non-interested and looking for fun elsewhere again.
I was annoyed myself at that point and I felt inferior and quite miserable. Later I told him that I am cold and that I would like to go home, and he agreed to leave. I told him that I am fine with him staying longer (and I meant it). So we sat there for another 10 or 15 minutes, so then I said it again that I will just go and he can stay, since I see he is having fun, he said he will go too, so I repeated it and he snapped at me ,,so go, I am tired of listening to that blabbing". I just stared at him, got up and left. Few minutes later I noticed he left too, he was behind me, and we had a fight during the walk - he had his voice raised ,,I don't get this behaviour of yours, you just get up and leave without saying bye to nobody". I replied that he ignored me the whole evening, and his response was that he kept hugging me (well he put his hand on my back like 3 times).
I just felt like an unpopular school kid nobody wants to be around. We usually don't go to such drinking events or concerts together, and I would never want his attention full time, I obviously expected him/us to talk to other people, but when we were left alone for a few minutes I felt completely ignored, as if it was embarrassing to talk to me. So, I really don't know what to think of this.
​
EDIT: I obviously did not completely avoid talking with him. I just was not having a full conversation with him that evening. When I got tipsy and was singing to a song, he joined me for a while, but then completely switched back to his dull mood.
​
TL;DR: My boyfriend was annoyed with my company at an event but he had fun when he spoke to other people.

Hello, Good Day or Evening.
This will be my first PC build, I've been wanting to build a PC for a couple of years now but I never had the chance to. This PC will be primarily be for playing games, internet surfing and watching movies. I am hoping to play games in 1440p.
I already have a Hyte y60 case(given to me) And The Aero 4070ti. All I need are the other parts.
help is greatly appreciated. I have no clue how to choose parts.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, Have a great day.

What will you be doing with this PC? Be as specific as possible, and include specific games or programs you will be using.

Mostly Gaming, Watching Movies and Anime. Internet surfing. I will be playing AAA games, elden ring and maybe try out Rdr2. Apex and Indie games I would also maybe try to mod the games I play.

What is your maximum budget before rebates/shipping/taxes?

$2500 CAD

When do you plan on building/buying the PC? Note: beyond a week or two from today means any build you receive will be out of date when you want to buy.

• As soon as Possible

What, exactly, do you need included in the budget? (ToweOS/monitokeyboard/mouse/etc)

OS

Which country (and state/province) will you be purchasing the parts in? If you're in US, do you have access to a Microcenter location?

*I do not have access to a micro center. Canada. I will be purchasing the parts online.

If reusing any parts (including monitor(s)/keyboard/mouse/etc), what parts will you be reusing? Brands and models are appreciated.

• Hyte y60 (white). I already have a keyboard and mouse. Aero 4070ti

Will you be overclocking? If yes, are you interested in overclocking right away, or down the line? CPU and/or GPU?

• I will not be overclocking as I do not know what it is.

Are there any specific features or items you want/need in the build? (ex: SSD, large amount of storage or a RAID setup, CUDA or OpenCL support, etc)

• 2tb of storage would be nice.

Do you have any specific case preferences (Size like ITX/microATX/mid-towefull-tower, styles, colors, window or not, LED lighting, etc), or a particular color theme preference for the components?

I have the Hyte Y60. Rgb would be nice. White theme for the aesthetics if possible, I do not mind what the color of the motherboard would be.

Do you need a copy of Windows included in the budget? If you do need one included, do you have a preference?

I would need a copy of Windows. I do not have a preference as I do not know much about it.

Extra info or particulars:

Some have noted the similarities between the Empyrean Miquella and Dionysus/Bacchus.^[1] During the Hellenistic period, Dionysus was identified with Horus-the-Child (I’ll cover Harpocrates in another post eventually). The Cleanrot Knights share the same name with certain grapevines in the JP version of the game, “Noble Rot”.^[1] The bewitching branches that the young Empyrean used to compel affection seems very Dionysian indeed. The branches of the Haligtree also seem to have grapes growing on the vines. quirkus23 noted that the aforementioned image reminded him of this engraving of “Satyr Family”[F], by Sebald Beham.
The bewitching branches that paint the young Empyrean in a more sinister light seem to take inspiration from Bacchic wands, also known as the thyrsus. They are comprised of narthex (fennel rods) from the Giant Fennel plant found in the Mediterranean, and a cluster of ivy leaves adorned on top.^[2] This rod thus has the power and symbolic value of Dionysus. Bewitching branches in Elden Ring require both sacramental buds and Miquella’s lilies, both entwined into a spear shape, just as Dionysus calls one “an ivy spear” in the Greek tragedy The Baccahe by Euripides.
In this famous tragedy, considered one of the greatest ever written, the king of Thebes Pentheus (whose name means “man of sorrows”) has banned the worship of Dionysus, which prompts the god to visit the city to punish him^[2]. Dionysus in disguise prompts Pentheus to dress himself in Bacchic garbs, garlanded in ivy leaves crowning his head, to infiltrate a group of Bacchic maenads (cultists). Pentheus thus becomes a thyrsus visually, and becomes an even greater symbol of Dionysus as the tragedy progresses. The play makes explicit that “a thyrsus is something created from an ordinary narthex by attaching a cluster of ivy leaves to its tip; then it may be raised in the worship of the god, once it has again become a thyrsus.” A parallel is enforced between Pentheus, the thyrsus, and Dionysus (who is garlanded with snakes).
“He then asks for instruction in the use of the thyrsus, with the god approving of his ‘change of mentality’ (944, 947-48). ‘A creature filled with the Dionysiac sense of power…’” - Kalke
In the forest where the maenads (followers of Dionysus) are, Dionysus bends a fir tree downwards, and hoists Pentheus onto the tip of the tree, described as being “crowned” with Pentheus on top (who is under his Bacchic influence). He thus becomes a grand thyrsus in the climax of the play. Importantly, Dionysus can no longer be seen when Pentheus sits high on his perch, because he has manifested himself in that grand symbol of his power. Dionysus then instructs his maenads to have at him for his transgressions against the god. Pentheus at this point is only the crown adorning this massive thyrsus, no longer an individual. The maenads (his mother among them) then uproot the tree with their bare hands, symbolically raising it in worship of their god. Pentheus falls to the ground and his mind returns to reality as he sees his mother, still under the Bacchic frenzy, and begs for his life.
The maenads rip Pentheus to pieces with their bare hands. The scene as described in the Bacchae is shockingly gruesome and sickening. That scene alone is worth checking out from the Bacchae in my opinion. Agave (Pentheus’ mother) then sticks his head onto her own Thyrsus, Pentheus now crowning it (she does so believing he is a lion she has slain). In the end, he is transformed into a gruesome symbol of Dionysus and in the words of Seidensicker: “compares Pentheus to a sacrificial victim, who, ‘consecrated to the god by a rite of investiture,’ becomes a surrogate of the god.”^[2] Pentheus was truly, “a man of sorrows”.
There are strong parallels between Miquella and Pentheus here. Miquella had Bacchic wands of his own, and embedded himself in the greatest symbol of his power, the Haligtree, only to be torn away by his half-brother Mohg, an adherent of the Formless Mother, and became a gruesome surrogate of the goddess in the form of a womb, living up to his name like Pentheus in the end by becoming “one who is like god” (Miquella’s name seems to be “a variation of Miguella, itself a feminine version of Miguel, a name of Hebrew origin meaning ‘who is like God.’)^[3] in a bloody manner.
Some have argued the play is about an enlightened individual martyred to an evil religion, of reason versus the irrational, a criticism of the Olympian system. I’m no expert of Greek literature, but William Arrowsmith^[4] has argued convincingly in my opinon, that such interpretations are incomplete readings of Euripides and his Greek tragedies. Most importantly, he noted that Euripides invoked in the Bacchae most strongly the moral term that I believe permeates all of Elden Ring: “sophia”.
It roughly translates to “wisdom” but encompasses much more than that, especially in the Greek experience. “...they [moral terms like “sophia”] are exposed to static definition without regard to the transformations which tragedy may force upon them as the hero moves from a situation of conventional morality and reality to an ordeal for which the traditional wisdom of the Chorus may be utterly inadequate.”
Someone pointed out to me that Raya Lucaria sorcerer crowns resemble the busts of Greek philosophers, so the Burger King headpieces may be more than nods to these great thinkers.
For a good while, I’ve personally identified Marika with Sophia thematically, thanks to Solarbro and their post^[5] on Elden Ring and Gnosticism, the similarities for me didn’t stop there, and for reasons that would be best left to another post, I believe the world of Elden Ring is fundamentally Gnostic, or heavily inspired at least. I highly recommend watching Garrulous_Goldmask's excellent video^[6] if you’re skeptical.
In Gnosticism, Sophia, an emanation of eternal light, is analogous to the soul, and in some sects has a consort (Barbelo) who is her mirror image. In the Gnostic mythos, she is a fallen figure from her place as creator of the universe. The parallels are very strong in my opinion. Marika’s other self is Radagon, and the emanations that protrude from her would be the Elden Ring. There is much more to unravel here but my focus is on Miquella.
In the Greek experience, sophia means “a knowledge and acceptance of one's nature and therefore of one's place in the scheme of things. It presupposes, that is, self-knowledge, an acceptance of those necessities (fate and circumstances) that compose the limits of human fate. It also means the consequent refinement of feelings by which a man recognizes and respects the sufferings of others before necessity: it issues in compassion.” In contrast, its opposite amathia is “a deep, brutal, unteachable, ungovernable self-ignorance which breaks out in violence and cruelty."^[4]
Arrowsmith brilliantly describes necessity "that set of unalterable, irreducible, unmanageable facts which we call the human condition. Call it destiny, call it fate, call it the gods, it hardly matters. Necessity is, first of all, death; but it is also old age, sleep, the reversal of fortune and the dance of life; it is thereby the fact of suffering as well as pleasure, for if we must dance and sleep, we also suffer, age and die. It is also sex, the great figure of amoral Aphrodite who moves in the sea, land, and air and as an undeniable power in the bodies of men, compelling and destroying those who, like Hippolytus, refuse to accept her. Or it is Dionysus, the terrible ambiguous force of the Bacchae..."^[7] There is a dualism described here I find interesting in regards to Elden Ring.
Marika embodies “sophia” as an Empyrean who is host to nature and its laws in the form of the Elden Ring, a golden star guiding fate, enforcing one’s place in the world through Order. Her first consort Hoarah Loux is amathia incarnate, wildly violent, needing to be tamed by the beast regent Serosh. "If the sophos [wise man] is by definition susceptible to the feelings of civilized humanity, a compassion learned in fellow-suffering, the amathes is callous and merciless, a barbarian by nature.”
Sophia also groups traits such as skill, cunning, cleverness, know-how, and expedience (wisdom) under its umbrella. Below these traits but still encompassing sophia in the play are “the knowing animal cunning of the practiced hunter, the cool eye and feline skill of Dionysus stalking his intended victim."^[4] I believe some of these traits can be attributed to Mohg, who snatched away the young Empyrean at the opportune moment (most likely when Malenia warred with Radahn).
There is also to sophon, the “calculating, shrewd, even opportunistic, skill of the worldly and ambitious”, blinding its possessor to the good that comes from accepting the here and now, usually a confidence of the young according to Plato’s Republic.
Through the dynamic transformations of these terms during the course of the play, Euripides set out to show in The Bacchae the falsity of the sophias of the opposing Pentheus and Dionysus: “Pentheus' cleverness foundering terribly upon the force he refuses to accept; the sophia of the Dionysiac quest nakedly revealed as sheer animal cunning and brutality. We witness, in short, sophia becoming amathia. There, in amathia, the god and his victim meet."^[4]
Pentheus demonstrated his amathia as “the proud iconoclastic innovator, rebelling against tradition, outside of the community's ‘nomos’ (custom as law), and disdainful of any power above man.”^[4]
Miquella seems to mirror these traits as he showed his unparalleled talent in creating his needles of unalloyed gold, great ambition in his attempt to become a god of the next age, rejecting Golden Order Fundamentalism, and rejecting higher powers such as the Greater Will and the Outer Gods. Mohg in turn seems mad in establishing his bloody Dynasty, since Miquella does not stir in their shared bedchamber, the palace surrounded by bloody mire and wretched refugees squaloring in it.
He was a maverick who rejected the gods and sought an entirely different age, perhaps of Abundance with what’s left in the final game. Many of us already know of Miquella’s sinister side through his bewitching branches. The namesake of the sacramental buds used to create them could suggest use in a religious ritual. This is thematically significant to me, as perhaps Miquella unwittingly worshipped the Formless Mother as Pentheus did for Dionysus, participating in a grand ritual that ended in their demise. Mohg may have been drawn to the young Empyrean through the usage of his blood, with himself as a sacramental (religious ceremony or ritual) bud embedded in not a branch, but his tree, the greatest symbol of his power.
“Believed to originate long ago from a strain of buds cultivated with youthful, sacramental blood.” - Sacramental Bud
“A delicate water lily of unalloyed gold that has started to fade and wilt. A flower signifying faith in the Haligtree. Thought to be beloved by the Empyrean Miquella in his youth.” - Miquella’s Lily
Miquella → Sacramental Bud
Haligtree → Miquella’s Lily
The parallels between both stories may not of course, mean they mirror each other exactly. There are theories that Marika watered the nascent Erdtree with her own blood to grow it, and the Formless Mother never seemed to take any interest in her. Furthermore, the living jars seemingly gather up flesh and blood to fertilize the Minor Erdtrees throughout the Lands Between. The use of the word “sacrament” for the buds and Miquella’s blood could mainly refer to them as being sacred, not as part of a ritual (though the word to me seems an allusion to The Bacchae, and any ritual in regards to Miquella embedding himself in the Haligtree is more likely symbolic than literal).
In The Bacchae, “it is by playing upon Pentheus' vulnerability, his deep ignorance of his own nature, that the god is able to possess him, humiliate him and finally to destroy him”^[4] in a gradual usurpation, but I don’t believe this was quite the case for Miquella. There isn’t any evidence that the Formless Mother was influencing him all along when he used his blood. In terms of sophia, it seems it was his own hybris (hubris) of attempting godhood (or perhaps attempting to bewitch the world by embedding himself) on his own terms, and ignorance of his place in the grand scheme of things that led to his demise.
“If the stars command our fates, then amber-hued stars must command the fates of the gods. Such is the belief that inspired the use of these shards to prepare a most special draught.” - Amber Starlight
The Bacchae shows that “great powers...stalk the world, real with a terrible reality, the source of man's very condition...which determine his life. And if the feelings stirred by what is limited before the unlimited are religious, then man's attitude toward these “daimones” [personified spirits of the human condition] is religious, the veneration and awe the fated must feel before the great gods of existence: Death, Life, Sex, Grief. Joy. Sophia accepts because it is a wisdom of experience, based on awe learned of both joy and bitter suffering."^[4]
Though an Empyrean with unparalleled talent, called “the most fearsome” demigod by Malenia, Miquella, like Pentheus, was still yoked under the necessity (state of things or circumstances) enforcing his course (his being the Elden Ring). Seen broadly, for defying the gods, Miquella was reduced to a bloody symbol upon an altar. This doesn’t necessarily mean the Greater Will or Formless Mother consciously acted against him. It’s an interesting notion I feel, that the Outer Gods act with real awareness, but there isn't any real indication they do. The closest evidence of anything of the sort I feel are the Two and Three Fingers relaying the wills of the forces they serve, and tantalizingly, a female voice who can be heard communing with Mohg during his “Nihil!” (I can't find the video again on Twitter so I hope someone links it if possible). Nothing conclusive at all, so for now, it is safer to say that the gods are motive forces that act upon the world with real consequences, and that Miquella’s demise through his amathia was more circumstance than fatal flaw (Though it's possible Mohg became enamored with him due to his penchant for compelling affection I'll admit).
"the most conspicuous failure of both the traditional and the new critics in respect to Greek tragedy has been the failure to realize turbulence: turbulence of experience, turbulence of morality in the process of getting made, and the turbulence of ideas under dramatic test"^[7]
Euridepean plays are not as structured in the Aristotelian sense, such as where a man falls due to a “fatal flaw”, but to Williams, are more faithful to the human experience by displaying the turbulence of circumstance and fate that can befall a man at any time. To Euripides, there are often no heroes, only protagonists, where fate may deprive one of responsibility, or strike when it no longer matters. Necessity then, seems center to all of Greek tragedy, and before it in “anguish comes the discovery of community and love in weakness before necessity. Love is the hope which finally permits Heracles to endure a hideous necessity he never made, and from his discovery of love and helplessness flow acceptance and courage, the courage which asserts the human demand for order in a world which annuls all hope of a moral order".^[7] Heroism to Euripides is finding strength from the weakness one does not expect to face, first reduced by circumstance, then raised.
“If he [the hero] has a “hamartia” [fatal flaw], it is not sin or flaw but the ungovernable tragic ignorance of all men: we do not know who we are nor who fathered us but go, blinded by life and hope, toward a wisdom bitter as the gates of hell. The cost of action is suffering, and heroism is the anguished acceptance of our own identities and natures, forged in action and pain in a world we never made."^[7]
Sophia, amathia, necessity, turbulence. I find all of these moral terms and ideas very relevant to many of the characters and themes in Elden Ring. Did Martin and Fromsoft fashion the entire game after Euridipean and Greek ideas of tragedy and storytelling? I'm not sure. Sophia though, is one of the more important ones, even central in my opinion.
So now the young Empyrean lies in his bloody cocoon, and if he lives, then it is almost certainly in dreaming, though his slumber I feel, may not be a peaceful one. If Fromsoft continues Miquella’s story in the Euridipean fashion in the dlc, then it may be the Tarnished that helps raise him to heroism from his suffering, helping him gain his dignity and perhaps finally usher in a new age.
Sources:
[1]Miquellas Dream the Duality of Dionysus
[2]The Making of a Thyrsus: The Transformation of Pentheus in Euripides' Bacchae
[3]The names, terms and language of Elden Ring (etymology/nomenclature study)
[4]The Bacchae, translated by William Arrowsmith
[5]Elden Ring and Gnosticism
[6]The Frenzied Flame in Elden Ring is Based (on Gnostic Christianity)
[7]The Criticism of Greek Tragedy by William Arrowsmith

The Shattered Mirror was exactly what Justin expected it to be. The shelves were cluttered, a disorganized mess of books, baubles and crystals meant to pull in the superstitious and otherwise gullible. It practically begged him not to be taken seriously, but Lee swore by it and so did her new medium friend, so it was worth a look.
The problem was, Justin didn’t know what he was looking for.
Their little stakeout of the Pearl District was a bit of a disaster. Allen finally came face to face with the Black Widow, and now Milo’s phone was going straight to voicemail. Lee and Allen were out looking for him at the waterfront, near the end of the streetcar line, and in the meantime, Justin had no idea how to be of use.
He perused the merchandise, hoping that something would jump out at him as capital i Important, but it felt less like browsing a magic shop and more like passing through someone’s mediocre garage sale.
“Cal I help you?” a woman called from the counter at the far end of the store. Her hair was a storm of curled dark grays, her narrow, calculating eyes almost lost amongst the strands. She looked him up and down, getting the measure of him. “Looking for something specific?”
Justin sighed. “Not really,” he admitted, approaching the counter. “My friend Lee was here recently, bought some holy water? I was hoping to find something else to help us out.”
“Oh, Ethan’s friend,” she said, her smile shifting from professional to honest. “Always nice to meet a friend of a friend.” She offered her hand. “I’m Joanne.”
“Justin,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”
She crossed her arms. “Still having that vampire problem?”
He smiled awkwardly, taken aback by how casually she brought it up. Guess this is the world I live in, now, he realized. Lee told me that Ethan believed her right off the bat. That’s probably the standard in these circles. “Well that’s the thing- I feel like we’re still fighting with our eyes closed, here. We’re all new to…” he trailed off, gesturing behind him, to the store full of curios.
“Could always talk to an expert,” the woman suggested. She held a finger up, then disappeared behind her counter for a moment. “Here we go,” she exhaled, standing back up with a rolodex of business cards. She took a close look at one of the cards, nodded to herself, then wrote the information down on a slip of paper. “He lives up in Willamette Heights. Don’t ring the doorbell, and don’t knock hard. He won’t ask you to take off your shoes, but do it anyway. He should be able to get you started.”
Justin took the paper. “Thank you,” he mumbled, surprised by her willingness to help. He hadn’t had much experience dealing with people in the city, but the constant of everyone he’d run into was that they were often polite, but rarely so kind. “So who is this guy? Is he like an arms dealer or something?”
Joanne shook her head. “He’s a historian. His family goes back to before the founding of Portland, back when the city was a coin toss away from being called Boston. He can tell you anything about the city, and if you tell him I sent you, he can even tell you the truth. Just be respectful, alright?”
“I will,” he promised, pocketing the paper. “Hey, I gotta ask: you don’t owe me anything and we’re strangers, so why are you helping me?”
She laughed softly, then sighed. “You’re in the real world now, kid. There’s no guidebook to help you survive it. That feeling of fighting with your eyes closed? You don’t undo that, you just get used to it. May as well help whoever you can when you bump into them, and hope they’ll do the same for you.”
* * *
“We’re here,” the driver said, stopping just before the driveway.
“Thanks,” Justin replied, opening the door and stepping out of the vehicle.
“Remember to rate five stars!” the driver yelled before making a U-turn and heading back down towards the city.
Willamette Heights was a beautiful neighborhood. The trees were so dense that it felt like civilization stopped at the backyards of the two and three-story houses the lined the streets. These weren’t paint-by-numbers, mass manufactured McMansions; they each had their own style, their own character. It was a quiet place, hidden in the shadow of the city. A perfect place to raise a family, and a perfect place to spend the twilight of one’s life.
From the sidewalk, the house seemed quite pleasant at first- the winding stone walkway up towards the front door, the garage built into the hill like a Hobbit hole, the trees looming over the front lawn in an inviting, “take a load off and enjoy the shade” kind of way- but that all stopped at the actual front of the house. All of the curtains were drawn, and all of the windows were barred. “What is this, the fucking Elm Street house?” Justin asked, feeling as though he were walking down the plank as he approached the bright red front door.
He stopped himself from ringing the doorbell, lightly knocking on the door as instructed. Before he had time to consider whether to knock again, the door swung open.
The historian was an imposing figure, nearly as tall as the doorframe. The hair atop his head had long ago receded, but his lengthy beard was nearly long enough to tuck into the belt of his bathrobe. He seemed thin, impossibly thin, but not brittle.
“Mr. Roland? Joanne sent me.”
“Of course she did.” He stepped aside, but did not invite Justin in. He simply waited.
“Yeah, I don’t bite,” Justin joked, stepping inside. He removed his shoes and left that at the door.
The house was as dusty as The Shattered Mirror, but not quite so cluttered. The walls of the entryway were bare, save for crosses secured above and to the sides of each doorway. “Follow me,” the historian instructed, stepping through an open pair of double doors down the hall.
Justin followed, and found himself in an incredible personal library. There were several rows of bookshelves between the doorway and the far end of the room, where the historian stepped behind a large walnut desk. The walls were lined with shelves, and the shelves were filled to bursting with books. As Justin approached the desk, he read a few of the labels at the ends of the rows. “Demonology, Manifestations, The Vetus… something tells me you don’t have a horror section, here.”
“Everything is horror if you allow yourself to be afraid,” the historian said, taking his seat. “You’re not here for that.”
“I’ve already been afraid,” Justin admitted. He took the single seat in front of the desk, wondering why there weren’t two. “I’ll be the first to admit, however, that I don’t know why I’m here.”
The historian opened one of the desk drawers and retrieved a small rectangular box. He opened it, placing it before him, and looked intently at it. Justin leaned forward, and saw that it was a small compass. The box was a dark brown wood, nearly black, and the needle was solid white. The needle was spinning steadily counter-clockwise, but as the historian glared at it, it suddenly stopped, pointing directly at Justin. That isn’t north, he noted, wondering what else it could mean.
“I know why you’re here,” the historian said, closing the box and returning it to the desk. “You need help, and there’s only one kind that I can provide. What do you need to know?” He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together.
Justin squirmed in his seat. “There’s a vampire in Portland. We’re trying to kill her.”
The historian frowned. “The girl? She’s only active during snowstorms, and the weather’s clearing up.”
“No, this is a woman,” Justin corrected. “She hunts men every three weeks like clockwork- always lonely, single guys who think they’re getting lucky. She was gone for a while, but we know she’s been active on and off for a few years, now.”
One of the historian’s eyebrows slowly began to rise at the description. “She wears disguises, yes?” He opened another drawer and began rummaging through it.
“Yeah, actually. We’re calling her the Black Widow, but that’s just a nickname. We don’t know her real name.”
“I might,” the historian replied, retrieving a leather-bound book from the drawer. He pawed through it for a moment before stopping on a page near the end of the book. “Here,” he said, turning the book over and tapping over one of the pages.
Justin tried to read the page, but had trouble at first. It was written by hand, and it had been a while since he’d last read cursive handwriting. It was a journal. The entry was from September 22nd, 1892:
The children whisper of her again, of the woman in white. They say that she wanders the sunset woods under moonlight. They say she dances across the waters of the Willamette, but not on the suspension bridge. They say that one cannot see her with the naked eye, that she only appears in the reflections of the water itself. They say her face changes, but her broken heart remains still. They say she cries out for lost love and spilled blood.
A man was found in the sunset woods on the west side of the Willamette, drained of his life’s blood without a drop on his person. He was last seen with a woman no one recognized. This has happened before, and if Satan has his way, it will happen again.
The men tell me it was a witch. The women believe it was a ghost. I know it is a demon, but not what it wants.
I wonder if it is her- the bride!- but she is only a rumor, a story we know not to tell our children as we were told, lest they inherit our nightmares and the figures we see in the shadows. Still… they do not know the story, but they say she is dressed in white.
I only know two things to be true. There is a God watching us, and he suffers no fools. We will barricade the doors and not answer when she comes calling. We will not stray.
“The woman in white?” Justin asked, looking up from the journal.
The historian nodded. “The Bride, yes. Many believed that she was a phantom, a poltergeist of a woman whose husband was taken from her before they could say their vows. However, there is the occasional mention throughout that time of men found dead, drained of their blood, leading to some- myself included- speculating that there could be a vampire involved in this tragedy.”
“So it’s a vampire that people think is a ghost?” Justin scoffed. “What, do they think ghosts bite people?”
“Yes,” the historian replied, nodding thoughtfully. After a moment, he let a soft chuckle escape him, then frowned. “Well, poltergeists actually might- if they made a habit of biting in life, that is. Either way, the vampire responsible for killing these men over a century ago may be your Black Widow.”
Justin rubbed his eyes. “So how does knowing that help us? What do we do?”
“What you do,” the historian corrected, “is look for the Bride.”
“Listen, we need a way to track her down and kill her. Learning when and why she was turned into a vampire doesn’t help us.”
The historian nodded again. “You’re right. However, finding the Bride will help you.”
“We know where she is. She lives in the Pearl District.” Justin poked at the journal. “This is fun history and all, but it doesn’t help us kill her.”
Closing the book and returning it to its drawer, the historian steepled his fingers together again and leaned back. “Why are you pursuing the Black Widow?”
“She’s a killer, and no one else knows she exists.” Justin could feel his cheeks reddening.
The historian smiled knowingly. “You know why she should die. Why does it have to be you, specifically?”
Justin felt a cold chill wash over him. This guy’s gotta be a mind reader or something. “My friend went missing a few years ago,” he admitted. “He doesn’t really fit her pattern, but he disappeared without a trace and she was active at the time. It’s the only lead on him that I’ve got. I know it’s a long shot, but I need to know if she killed him.”
“I understand,” the historian said, stroking his beard in contemplation. He seemed to be considering something, but Justin didn’t know what. “If this Black Widow were to learn your personal motivations, do you think she could find a way to leverage it against you?”
“Sure,” Justin agreed.
“The Bride is somehow connected to the Black Widow,” the historian replied. “To know what happened to her is to know who you’re facing. This could be your leverage. This could be your weapon.”
“So who do we think she is?” Justin asked, leaning forward.
The historian smiled. “I don’t know her name, but I know where she’s been spotted.” He rummaged through another drawer briefly before retrieving a paper, unfolding it to reveal a worn map of the state. He circled a spot near the Willamette, south of Portland. “There’s a manor in West Linn, not far from the Arch Bridge. Some say it’s haunted. I’m inclined to agree. Go there. Seek her out. Learn her story.”
Justin took the map, folding it back up. “Thank you, Mr. Roland,” he said. “When this is all over, maybe I’ll have a story worth telling you.”
The historian’s smile left him. “Oh, I know how this story ends, and it’s not one I’ll wish to hear again. Good luck, Justin.”

In Bloodborne, the Saw cleaver is a great, versatile weapon. It's fast, has good damage, easy to acquire, and has a versatile moveset. What is a good equivalent in Elden Ring? A few candidates i thought of:

• Longsword
• Uchigatana
• Halberd (or another halberd)
• Bloodhound's Fang
• Bastard Sword (or another greatsword)

What do you think?

my favorite games are elden ring and bloodborne, which are very different from diablo but i’m just providing context for my taste. the most similar game i’ve played to diablo is prolly borderlands 3 (“action rpg” based on loot) and i enjoyed it but didn’t play anything after the story. i also used to play a ton of dota 2 back in the day, and it seems diablo is kinda similar to the pve elements of dota (farming creeps).
normally i’d just buy it to see for myself but 1. i just bought tears of the kingdom (thought it was good but overrated so i don’t play it anymore) and don’t wanna make an impulse purchase and 2. i buy a lot of games and end up not liking them even if they’re critically acclaimed, so i wanted to do more research before buying this one.
and yes ik this is the diablo sub and ik there might be bias.
thanks !

I just started playing last Friday. I have spent about 6-8 hours playing so far. I'am absolutely blown away with the level of details they have gotten out of the switch.
Anyhow, with that out of the way, i'am finding tears of the kingdom's combat difficulty to be refreshing. For me, it is just right. I have played souls like games, including elden ring for reference. I was a big fan of botw also. However, i found botw to have very easy combat as most enemies would die relatively easy. Tears, whilst enemies are the same has managed to reach a nice medium of enemy difficulty,hp and defence and sometimes unpredictability with lizalfos jumping about. Although, this may be me just being shit. Im looking forward to seeing how this continues as i lvl up more and get better gear.

Why is Maliketh never referred to as a shardbearer in-game when he is literally the one holding the Rune of Death? Or is it because the Rune of Death was removed from the Elden Ring way before the Shattering? Even Gideon never mentions him.

Greetings Tarnished!
This is the place to ask any questions you may have about Elden Ring. This includes obscure detail questions, "newbie" advice questions, build questions, boss advice questions, and what have you.
Well written, constructive criticism is fine but please avoid ranting about aspects of the game you just don’t like. This includes “so and so boss is stupid and too difficult.”
If you are interested in the game but don’t own it yet, please don’t post “should I buy this game?” or “Is this game worth it?”. If you have played other FromSoftware games and enjoyed them, the answer is yes. If you haven’t, just do a little research! These games are difficult, and sometimes frustrating, and not everyone is going to enjoy them. And that’s okay!
Lastly, be friendly! We are all here because we are interested in the same game! Please treat your fellow players with respect.
Here are a few helpful links:
Our Discord which has an awesome Helper Request System!
Elden Ring Wiki
Elden Ring Map
Most Recent Patch Notes (1.06)
/BeyondTheFog for co-op help!
/PatchesEmporium for item trading!
/EldenRingBuilds for builds and build help!
Our community password is straydmn
Rise, Tarnished!

Any helpers? They spawn a bunch of shit you have to fight. I’m on Xbox but don’t think that matters. World Tier 2
Edit: everyone being a dick could learn a lot from Elden Ring community. We helped each other.

https://preview.redd.it/97k3hw1j7b4b1.png?width=1024&format=png&auto=webp&s=3490bc1e3df6cf6278c056a96829f4ba39e48c9d
CW-1 Before:

Doctor: Who pulled the curtains open?
Muelsyse: Yawning so much, did you not sleep well?
D: Is this how the hotel in Tremont protects guests' privacy? (Is this how the director of Rhine Life visits guests?)
M: If I want to see you, I'll come. You saved me from that power armour, yet you fin it strange when I bring you breakfast?

​
CW-ST-2:

M: Ah, you're awake, Doc. Good morning... No, it's good evening.
D: The last thing I remember is the ventilation ducts -
M: Yes, I have been manipulating water to find you after I learned that you were in danger. When you were about to be discovered, I finally found you, and so, wrapped you in water and transported you here. I'm sorry for the bumps on the way, but I was in a hurry.
D: I owe you one.
M: You saved me once, I saved you once... Hmmm, I wonder who will save who next time?

​
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CW-5 Before:

With her hands behind her back, Muelsyse slowly steps away from the Doctor. She looks at them with with a rare, somewhat serious expression.
The music is already playing.
It is a soothing and melodious tune. The Doctor sees water seeping out from between the veins of the leaves, slowly coalescing into a drop of crystal dew.
More drops appear, and they leave the leaves, catching up with Muelsyse, moving in time with the melody. They can make out the rhythmic movement of each drop on the surface, so light it looks like breathing.
M: Doctor, feel them and they will guide our dance.
...
D: The air in this ecological garden seems to be 'clean'.
M: Doctor, you are very perceptive. The light, water circulation systems and air purification devices do not rely on the support of Originium powered technology. In other words, it really is the cleanest place in Trimounts.
M: It is my foundation in Trimount. It's the only place where I feel more relaxed.
The Doctor's hands are suddenly empty, and Muelsyse disappears from view.
Those drops of water condense into a ribbon of water that gently pulls them toward the corner of the ecological garden.
A white fir, currently only found in a small amount in some mountainous areas of Colombia because of the pollution of the soil by the industrial development of Originium.
The water droplets scatter and break up, separating a dense layer of mist between the fir trees and the Doctor.
They can faintly see a tombstone. Muelsyse is quietly removing the weeds around it.
They have never seen her that mournful.
Is that, a projection of the past?

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(Insert Muelsyse's Backstory)
...
M: How easy is it to stay away from modern civilization? A more convenient, more advanced, more colourful life was just around the corner, and you were told that you would have to spend your life in the deep woods.
M: It became unbearable for some, especially due to the long lifespans of elves. Some died in depression because of this, and some chose to end their lives early.
M: But more elves, eventually, chose to enter this society, including my parents.
M: They struggled to find a way to avoid contact with Originium but survive in civilization, living carefully but bravely. They knew they would die one day because of exposure to Originium. They accepted the result.
D: Are you looking for a way to change their fate?
M: Keep dancing, Doctor.
More drops of water rise from the ecological garden and the music enters a new passage.
The smile returns to Muelsyse's face.
M: Sometimes I envy Rhodes Island, there are always so many people there.
D: Ah, so you've been to Rhodes Island.
M: Oh, I've been discovered. I did sneak onto your ship, maybe once or twice? I wanted to see how Ifrit was doing, and I was curious about what Saria was up to.
M: Speaking of which... I also saw a certain someone standing on the deck staring as the sun was about to set.
D: I didn't notice your approach at the time.
M: It was a tiny, tiny doppelganger of mine, no threat. I wondered why you liked to be alone on the deck and think about things when you were so happy in your cabin.
D: I wanted to try to see if I could remember something. It seemed that someone had watched the sunset with me many times before.

Priestess...

M: Did you find any memories of that person?
D: No.
D: All I can remember is a face and a name.
M: Well... Even a mysterious and knowledgeable person like you has answers that you can't find.
She leads them, with another half turn.
D: You're a good dancer.
M: Of course I am, I was the backbone of the dance club in college and practiced for a long time.
M: When I left the village, I spent all my time 'studying'. Every child in Colombia knows that if you want to change your life, the best thing to do is to go into science. I studied hard, became the first in my class, the first in my grade, and finally got into the university in Trimounts.
M: In addition to my studies, I spent enough time in 'modern life', fashion, games, literature, music, dance... I mastered social etiquette and I met a lot of people.
M: For others, this is just a hobby, but for me it's a task, an exploration, a self-test. I know it's strange to say this, but what I ask of myself is, "You have to live life with all of your effort."
The song is over. In empty ecological garden, Muelsyse stands across from the Doctor, quiet as a white fir.
They can hear the sound of the air purification system running.
The wind hits their face, unusually moist. The fragrance of the plants, the looseness of the soil... They realize that the dancing water drops, the song and the dance were real.
M: Let our collaboration continue, Doctor.