Kareth of Vale had no issues entering the Citadel of King Soak, or King Croak, or whatever his name was, he couldn't remember that detail and deemed it too insignificant to try to remember. He had been ambushed by bandits a few days prior and bled to death after slaying the lot of them. It had taken him almost an entire day to remember his purpose before returning to his journey towards Terrace and he still bore the green tinted skin and dead eyes indicative of those who had just begun hollowing. Simply lowering his hood in the presence of the Citadel Guards was enough to let them know he was undead.

A thick, leatherbound tome was clutched in his hands and chained to his waist, covered in stains and worn with use. This book contained his purpose: the accumulation of knowledge. Knowledge was power, and with power, he could uncover the secrets of this world. And cursed with undeath, he needed not fear death, it was now only a setback. The King sought undead to bring low the powerful dragons, and if they were powerful, according to Kareth's reasoning, they must know many secrets. Plundering such secrets would be quite enjoyable.

He noticed several people heading towards the Castle and fell in line with them, spending a brief moment reminding himself of his name and goals. "Kareth of Vale, knowledge is power, kill the dragons, learn their secrets." He muttered to himself.