[center][h2][color=Mediumslateblue]Arghast, Herald of the Abyss[/color][/h2]

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The heavy thud of steel-alloy armor crashing to the stone floor resonated through the hallowed cathedral. Arghast withdrew his axe from the exposed throat of a hollowed knight, having caught the doomed warrior's red cape with his foot and nearly decapitating it with a fell swing. The corroded tendons of the undead relaxed, loosening its grasp on an exotic sword, needle-like in shape. These ill-fated soldiers roamed about the ramparts of the burg; their numbers, Arghast concluded, were indicative of some failed foreign crusade into Lordran. 

Watching the thick, cursed blood of his kill conglomerate on the edge of his axe, he wondered just how many unfortunate forays had died here, in search of the supposed [i]Bell of Awakening[/i]. Servants to lords, warrior champions, paladins of faith, they had all met the same inevitable fate which awaits those cursed by the gods. Now, it seemed, the very halls where potent prayers to the gods had echoed have sunk into decrepitude. Taking several steps deeper into the church, he looked over the shattered pews to the far door, harboring the distinct sense that he was being spied upon.