Have you ever felt the curse, with your whole being? The pox upon life itself, feared and despised by all. The reviled blessing. ... Apparently not. You are but a lamb. A stranger to defilement. Ignorant of your own ignorance. You no longer interest me. I've been long without peace. Don't spoil my quietude. I asked you not to disturb me. Be thankful of the Hold's serenity. It is all that keeps your death and defilement at bay. No, wait. ... You have felt the curse. I can smell it on you. The pox, yet tender. Apparently my seedbed is ripe and waiting. Twas a brief respite, I must say. Go, and unshackle my corporeal flesh. Trapped in the sewer gaol, below the capital. I can kill you, and defile your corpse. Then the pox will truly be your own. Go, and unshackle my corporeal flesh. Trapped in the sewer gaol, below the capital. I can kill you, and defile your corpse. Then the pox will truly be your own. ... Let me out! Let me out of here! Must eat more! Defile more! Everything that matters to you! For generations to come! I am the Dung Eater! A scourge upon the living! Who are you? I've been here long enough. I will kill again. And defile each corpse with care. Just to be sure. That when they're reborn… They'll be cursed. Along with their children, and their children's children, for all time to come… I will kill again. And defile each corpse with care. Just to be sure. That when they're reborn… They'll be cursed. Along with their children, and their children's children, for all time to come… I am the Dung Eater. A scourge upon the living. I must eat more. Defile more... Let me out. Let me out of here. I will kill you, and defile your corpse. Then the pox will truly be your own. I'll give you a good blessing. You'll be nourishment for the pox. There you are. You warded off my blessing. Despite the curse stirring within you. No one has succeeded in that before. How? I thought. Then it hit me. That you are, in fact, me. And I...am the Dung Eater. It is my flesh that must receive the blessing. Give me your blessing. Defile my flesh with the seedbed curse. Again and again. Until it is done. Until a cursed ring coalesces, that may one day defile Order itself. Countless, I have killed. And countless, I have defiled. And soon the fruits will be borne. Hundreds will be reborn cursed, and they'll bear thousands of cursed children, who'll bear tens of thousands more. A few of those will be born just like me, and they'll kill, and defile, and bless in my stead! The rotten fools. My fate was the grandest, most brilliant of them all! My corporeal flesh lies in the sewer gaol beneath the Capital. Give it your blessing. Defile my flesh with the seedbed curse. Until a cursed ring coalesces, that may one day defile Order itself. Uur...urgh... A curse... A curse upon them all. They'll be born cursed, all of them. Along with their children, and their children's children, heh, for all time to come… Uur...urgh... Curse you, Golden Order. One day, you'll get what's coming. Ah...argh... No... I am... the Dung Eater... I am... ... ... ... Bless you! Oh, this is a rare occasion. I can't remember the last time a new Tarnished made their way to the Roundtable. Very well. As your senior, I bid you welcome. It is safe here. You may let down your guard. Allow me a word of advice, as your senior. You are a mere visitor to the Roundtable, nothing more. A house guest, yet to earn their keep. Remember your place, newcomer. There's nothing left to say. Be at your leisure. What do you need? I have little time to spare. Oh, are you aggrieved? At the notion you are but a visitant here? Then you would do well to remember the first words of grace given to you. Stand before the Elden Ring, and become the Elden Lord. If those words held any meaning to you... Follow the guidance of grace, lay low the shardbearers, and claim for yourself a Great Rune. Do so, and the doors to the Roundtable's inner chamber will open. And you will receive the wisdom of the Two Fingers. Once the wisdom of the Two Fingers becomes your own, I'll impart to you a proper welcome. As a true member of the Roundtable. I have high hopes for you. I'm sick and tired of them. These namby-pamby Tarnished think us no more than a shelter from the rain... We've spoken long enough. I have matters to attend to. If you haven't anything to say, I would prefer you didn't pester me for attention. Try not to make a spectacle of yourself either. Or are you as irredeemably foolish as you appear? You've received the wisdom of the Two Fingers, have you not? Then just as promised, I bid you welcome, as a true member of the Roundtable. I am known as Gideon Ofnir. As a Tarnished who wishes to stand before the Elden Ring and become Elden Lord, I am accumulating knowledge. To be all-knowing. You now belong to a select group of fellows. As such, I ask that you remain constant. You'll be after more Great Runes, now eh? Then as your fellow, allow me to divulge a little knowledge. The inheritors of the Great Runes; the shardbearers. We of the Roundtable know the location of five of them, including the one you defeated. Godrick the Grafted, Lord of Stormveil. General Radahn, who fought Malenia and her rot to a standstill in the Caelid Wilds. Praetor Rykard, Lord of the Volcano Manor of Mt. Gelmir. Morgott the Grace-Given, Veiled Monarch and Lord of Leyndell. And Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon, ruler of Raya Lucaria's Academy. ...You'll still be after more Great Runes, won't you? So. Godrick the Grafted, Lord of Stormveil. Despite being the blood of Godfrey, first Elden Lord, he's a grotesque old fool, grasping for power. His castle lies upon the cliff to Limgrave's northwest. ...but I suspect you know that well enough already. General Radahn, the famed Red Lion and scourge of the stars, is a ferocious warrior. He fought Malenia and her rot to a standstill in the Caelid Wilds to Limgrave's east. And now Caelid has been engulfed by the scarlet rot, even approaching the region is no mean feat. I've heard survivors of Radahn's army are still in the wilds, staving off the rot with fire. And if it's true, I suspect Radahn is still there as well, in Caelid. Though I doubt he much resembles his former self anymore... Praetor Rykard is the Lord of the Volcano Manor on Mt. Gelmir. He is a ruthless justiciar who commands a company of inquisitors, reviled for his serpentine demeanour. The volcano, Mt. Gelmir, lies in the west of the Altus Plateau; the realm of the Erdtree. It was the stage of the most appalling battle in the entirety of the Shattering. Rykard has committed the grave sin of blasphemy. Marking himself as an enemy, never to be forgiven. Morgott the Grace-Given is Lord of Leyndell, the capital city. It lies at the foot of the Erdtree, in the east of the Altus Plateau. But the Two Fingers forbid us from venturing there. Until we've acquired enough Great Runes to repair the Elden Ring. Set your sights elsewhere for the time being. The Veiled Monarch can wait. The Academy of Raya Lucaria lies to Limgrave's north, towering over the mist-laden lands of Liurnia. Rennala is the queen of the Carian royals, who govern the academy. But Rennala herself is no demigod. She is merely the recipient of an amber egg, given to her by Radagon, Her beloved, Radagon, left her to become Queen Marika's second husband, taking the title of King Consort. The Great Rune dwells within the amber egg that was Radagon's gift to her. There are four more demigods yet to be located. Miquella of the Haligtree, the Unalloyed. His twin, Malenia, the undefeated swordswoman. Lunar Princess Ranni, daughter to Rennala. And the one only known as the Lord of Blood. Ranni is said to have cast aside her Great Rune, so here at the Hold, we seek the whereabouts of the remaining three shardbearers. If you should learn anything of these matters, I'll trade your findings for a hidden treasure, or a long-lost rite, known only to me. We both desire to stand before the Elden Ring, and become Elden Lord. As such, I hope we are compelled to work together. I'll trade your findings for something rather special. Ah, you. What is it? Well...what is it now? Well. I see you've found another Great Rune. Wonderful. You are a worthy fellow Tarnished, indeed. Make the journey. To the capital Leyndell, that lies to the east of the Altus Plateau, at the foot of the Erdtree. The Two Fingers will deny your passage no longer. You may be our best hope. Find your way to the Elden Ring. For we are Tarnished. And we must answer the call of grace. Journey to the capital Leyndell, to the east of the Altus Plateau, at the foot of the Erdtree. The Two Fingers will deny your passage no longer. You may be our best hope. Find your way to the Elden Ring. General Radahn, the famed Red Lion and scourge of the stars, is a ferocious warrior. He fought Malenia and her rot to a standstill in the Caelid Wilds to Limgrave's east. And by my reckoning Radahn remains there, even now. Though I doubt he much resembles his former self anymore... Morgott the Grace-Given is Lord of Leyndell, the capital city. It lies at the foot of the Erdtree, in the east of the Altus Plateau. But the Two Fingers forbid us from venturing there. Until we've acquired enough Great Runes to repair the Elden Ring. The Academy of Raya Lucaria lies to Limgrave's north, towering over the mist-laden lands of Liurnia. Rennala is the queen of the Carian royals, who govern the academy. And her Great Rune dwells within the egg she so dearly clutches. You've received the wisdom of the Two Fingers, have you not? Then I bid you welcome, as a true member of the Roundtable. I am known as Gideon Ofnir. As a Tarnished who wishes to stand before the Elden Ring and become Elden Lord, I am accumulating knowledge. To be all-knowing. You now belong to a select group of fellows. As such, I ask that you remain constant. I understand you've been speaking to Nepheli. She is my daughter. I took her in when she lost the guidance of grace. Though a mere axe-wielding barbarian, her youthful credulity suited my purposes. So I put her to work. Do not hesitate to employ her, should her services benefit you. Despite her looks, she is more than capable in the press of battle. Ahh, you've already heard? Indeed, it seemed the whelp harboured suspicions. So I had no further use for her. Honestly, what's a man to do. A determined plebian is more wicked than an Omen horn, quite frankly. I suspect...that's just what the Queen wants. A dose of ambition, to incite the Tarnished. Is that potion what I think it is? Bloody Seluvis. I suppose he's up to something again. Oh, I won't interfere. You go ahead and do what you must. The Roundtable has no code to speak of. But, I ask you this. Are you really going to do the bidding of that twisted dolly botherer? Or would you rather hand that potion to me, and see if we can't get one over on the bastard? Good. I'll dispose of the potion myself. You go and see Seluvis, but don't give anything away. Just tell him that you tricked your mark into drinking the potion as planned. Despite knowing next to bloody nothing, he's so far up his own arse he won't suspect a thing. His inevitable display of arrogance will certainly be a sight to behold. Well, I won't force you. But I think your plan would be a dreadful waste. She's not herself right now, and though I have no need of her, she still has potential. Certainly more value than she'd have as a bloody puppet. I hear you helped get the girl back on her feet. Though I'm not her foster father anymore, I'd still like to thank you. Sorry. For the time you had to waste. Well, I won't force you. If you want to do that dolly botherer's bidding, that's up to you. Not that I could fathom why you'd want to... Oh, my apologies for that nasty business. Ensha got rather ahead of himself, it seems. As his master, I'd like to express my regret. But now, Ensha is slain and gone. Finished, forever more. Ah, yes, by way of apology, allow me to tender some advice, in regard to the half of the secret medallion you possess. Find the Albinauric woman. She hides in a cave to the west of the Laskyar Ruins which jut from the mist-shrouded lake of Liurnia, She knows the location of the medallion's counterpart, I am sure. together with her great wolf. Find the Albinauric woman. She hides in a cave to the west of the Laskyar Ruins which jut from the mist-shrouded lake of Liurnia, She knows the location of the medallion's counterpart, I am sure. together with her great wolf. Ah, yes, by way of apology, allow me to tender some advice, in regard to the half of the secret medallion you possess. Find the village of the Albinaurics. It lies to the southwest of Liurnia, below the Altar clifflands. And some of the old village folk have hidden the secret medallion's other half somewhere. Find the village of the Albinaurics. It lies to the southwest of Liurnia, below the Altar clifflands. Some of the old village folk have hidden the secret medallion's other half somewhere. Ahh, I know already. You're after it too, aren't you. To pass the impenetrable thorns, you seek the forge of the flame of ruin, in the snowy mountaintops of the giants. Then you need to reach the Grand Lift of Rold, beyond the forbidden region. Hah, no need to pay me for that gift. All my knowledge is for the sake of guidance. That a Tarnished might stand before the Elden Ring, and become Elden Lord. It doesn't have to be me, my fellow. If you're heading to the forge of the flame of ruin, in the snowy mountaintops of the giants. You'll need to find the Grand Lift of Rold, beyond the forbidden region. I marked your map with its location. Go, if you would. Take no heed of "cardinal sin". The Two Fingers lost their purpose a long, long time ago. Ahh, I see you've laid your hands on the other secret medallion. I'm glad to see my counsel has borne fruit, but the honour of the deed is yours alone. You've made more of yourself than Ensha has... Now, more importantly, both secret medallions are in your hands. I suppose you'd like to know then? What awaits you on the path ahead? Me too, my friend, me too. I wait with baited breath. Ahh, so the secret medallions led you to the land of the Haligtree? I'd expect to find Malenia there. She who fought Radahn to a standstill. Well, if the scarlet rot hasn't eaten her away completely. But...with the Haligtree as it is... I suppose Miquella must already be... Ah, my apologies. Lost myself, for a moment there. The information you've shared is of great value. As promised, your reward: A hidden treasure, known only to me. A secret rite known only to me. You are a true fellow. All I ask is that you remain constant. And it is a wondrous thing indeed. So. The Haligtree, now but a husk... I heard speculation Miquella embedded himself in the Haligtree, but before he could finish, someone cut the tree open and absconded with his infant form. Indeed, it seems those words held weight. How vexing. That the All-knowing didn't have the full story... Perhaps the Queen's sorrow was justified... Oh, so that's where the so-called Lord of Blood was hiding himself eh. A fitting little squat for that deluded maniac to bleat about the revival of his precious dynasty, while he turns our fellow Tarnished into Bloody Fingers. Let him stay there. That way, his delusions will remain as they are - distant and unattainable. But perhaps it's worth looking into... If what I've heard is right, then maybe... Ahh, I see! So Miquella was with the Lord of Blood after all! That is some fine intelligence indeed! With it, the final clue has been brought into the light. One of the last few pieces the Roundtable-- I need, to put everything together. As promised, allow me to impart to you the last of the hidden treasures known only to me. the last of the secret rites known only to me. a thing most wondrous, known only to me. Well, I wonder what comes next... If he continues his slumber within the cocoon, all would be well. But perhaps it would be safer to destroy it. Miquella is the one thing that remains a mystery to me... You...burned the Erdtree, didn't you? Then the Roundtable is soon to follow. Ah, no need to fret about that. The Roundtable Hold served to put a Tarnished upon the throne of Elden Lord. And if the Erdtree needed to burn for that to happen, then the Roundtable must go, as well. I'll stay at the Roundtable, for a time. I must learn all that can be taken from this place, and sear it into my memory. How could I call myself the All-Knowing, if I did any less? The pursuit of knowledge is without end, for knowledge is never a thing complete. Thus, I maintain the mantle of All-Knowing. Perhaps the same could be said of guidance. Who's to say whether we'll remain who we are, once the fight is finished? What do you think, as one who aspires to become Elden Lord? Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing Ahh, I knew you'd come. To stand before the Elden Ring. To become Elden Lord. What a sad state of affairs. I commend your spirit, but alas, none shall take the throne. Queen Marika has high hopes for us. That we continue to struggle. Unto eternity. You think I don't know what that is? I have no secrets for you to salaciously gawp at. You think too little of Gideon Ofnir, the All-knowing. My fellow, you've fought well, until now. I know...in my bones... A Tarnished cannot become a Lord. Not even you. A man cannot kill a god... Knowledge above all! Ah, nice to meet you. The pleasure's mine. Rogier's the name. A sorcerer, as you might have guessed. I'm looking for a little something, here in the castle. When I'm not hotfooting it from the troops, that is. But enough about me, what are you doing here in Stormveil Castle? This place is bristling with Tarnished hunters, you know. They sacrifice our kind, for grafting. Not exactly a place I'd stroll into without a purpose in mind... I see. Here to challenge Godrick, and lay your hands upon a Great Rune, are you? You can see it then, I take it? The guidance of grace. Well, enjoy it while you can. I'm Tarnished, like you. But unlike you, I've seen neither hide nor hair of this guidance for the longest time. Still, I won't forget how it felt when I first came here, to the Lands Between. I'm privy to a few magical battle arts. Would you care to learn one? As a fellow Tarnished, once guided by grace. I'd love to help you out, if it please. Oh? Keen to learn another battle art, are we? Oh hello there, good to see you safe. Stopping by to learn a battle art or two? The battle art you've learned is of the glintstone family. They were conceived at the great Academy of Raya Lucaria, to the north of this castle. In the past, they obeyed laws which contravened the Golden Order, or so I'm told. Fascinating, isn't it? That the Golden Order was pliable enough to absorb practices that contradicted itself in the past. With the Order broken, twisted, and in need of repair, such adaptability is more important now than ever. Of course. I understand. Why place trust in a perfect stranger? Be safe, then, stranger. Watch you don't get sacrificed, eh. I'll do the same. Oh? Something bothering you? Or are you just trying to pass the time? I'm curious how you ended up inside this castle. Ah, we meet again after all. I apologise for any offence given by my bearing, but I'm quite unable to move, you see. So. What do you need? Ah, you defeated Godrick and claimed yourself a Great Rune. Mm, looks like we both got we wanted out of Stormveil, didn't we. Well done, friend. Something to mark the occasion. Go on, take it. As you might've guessed, I still can't move. My fighting days are behind me. No need to be polite, I've no use for it anymore. The misshapen corpse under Stormveil? That is a sacred relic. Of the black knives plot. As that famed night of assassination is known. It happened during the Golden Age of the Erdtree, long before the shattering of the Elden Ring. Someone stole a fragment of the Rune of Death from Maliketh, the Black Blade. And on a bitter night, murdered Godwyn the Golden. That was the first recorded Death of a demigod in all history. And it became the catalyst. Soon, the Elden Ring was smashed, and thus sprang forth the war known as the Shattering. I once wished to become a scholar, you see. I've spent many an hour scouring the archives for knowledge of that fateful plot. The world has grown crooked, and if you intend to put it to rights, You'd better understand what happened to make it this way, mm? This...is a black knifeprint! I can scarcely believe you managed to get your hands on this! You recall our conversation about the Night of the Black Knives, yes? They say the assassins who carried out the deed were scions of the Eternal City. A group entirely of women, arrayed in armour of silver under cloaks which fooled the eye. The knives they wielded though, were imparted with the power of the Rune of Death through sinister rite. Please, I beg of you, lend me the knifeprint for a time. I'd love nothing more than to tease out its secrets. Though only a fragment, a very specific ritual had to be performed to impart the power of the Rune of Death. Traces of the one who performed the rite are sure to remain in the imprint... Half my body has been suffused with Death. I'm certain it will help me see. Oh, still need something? Always good to see you safe. So. What do you need? Ah, so you've met D. D is an old friend. We found ourselves journeying together for a time, bound by our exploration of Death. But our paths have since diverged. Never again to cross. Though that's hardly an uncommon fate for two friends. Pleased to meet you. The name's Rogier. A sorcerer, by trade. But now I'm in this sorry state. I had a little mishap, and now I can't move. As you might guess, it's far from ideal... Ah, I know. I'm privy to a few magical battle arts. Would you care to learn one? Time can move rather slowly, stuck here, you know. A little conversation goes a long way. Ahh, hello. I was hoping to see you. My examination is complete. Here's the knifeprint back, with my thanks. Now, I have a fairly good idea who performed the rite upon the blade. The person who orchestrated the Night of the Black Knives. Lunar Princess Ranni. One of the children born to King Consort Radagon and his first wife, Renalla. Demigod and sister to General Radahn and Praetor Rykard. Her's was the name I discovered in the imprint. Truly, you have my thanks. But, if I might be so bold, I would also like to ask something more of you. If Ranni truly is the one who plotted that fateful night, then she should bear the cursemark of Destined Death somewhere upon her flesh. I would like you to procure it for me. And then all will be laid bare. I will have the answers I have sought for so long. Don't fret, it is entirely in accordance with the guidance of grace. If you seek to stand before the Elden Ring and become Elden Lord, The answers you find will surely bolster your chances. I have some idea of Ranni's potential whereabouts. There's a manor to the north of the Academy of Raya Lucaria. It is the familial home of the Carian royals from whom Ranni descends. There's been talk of the old royals' vassals gathering there in recent years Ranni's whereabouts since the Shattering are a well-kept secret. She hasn't been seen even once. But I suspect she might have returned to the manor in which she was born... If Lunar Princess Ranni truly is the one who plotted that fateful night, then she should bear the cursemark of Destined Death somewhere upon her flesh. Would you be willing to procure it for me? She may have returned to the manor that is her home. The Royal Carian residence to the north of the Academy of Raya Lucaria.

Have you ever felt the curse, with your whole being? The pox upon life itself, feared and despised by all. The reviled blessing. ... Apparently not. You are but a lamb. A stranger to defilement. Ignorant of your own ignorance. You no longer interest me. I've been long without peace. Don't spoil my quietude. I asked you not to disturb me. Be thankful of the Hold's serenity. It is all that keeps your death and defilement at bay. No, wait. ... You have felt the curse. I can smell it on you. The pox, yet tender. Apparently my seedbed is ripe and waiting. Twas a brief respite, I must say. Go, and unshackle my corporeal flesh. Trapped in the sewer gaol, below the capital. I can kill you, and defile your corpse. Then the pox will truly be your own. Go, and unshackle my corporeal flesh. Trapped in the sewer gaol, below the capital. I can kill you, and defile your corpse. Then the pox will truly be your own. ... Let me out! Let me out of here! Must eat more! Defile more! Everything that matters to you! For generations to come! I am the Dung Eater! A scourge upon the living! Who are you? I've been here long enough. I will kill again. And defile each corpse with care. Just to be sure. That when they're reborn… They'll be cursed. Along with their children, and their children's children, for all time to come… I will kill again. And defile each corpse with care. Just to be sure. That when they're reborn… They'll be cursed. Along with their children, and their children's children, for all time to come… I am the Dung Eater. A scourge upon the living. I must eat more. Defile more... Let me out. Let me out of here. I will kill you, and defile your corpse. Then the pox will truly be your own. I'll give you a good blessing. You'll be nourishment for the pox. There you are. You warded off my blessing. Despite the curse stirring within you. No one has succeeded in that before. How? I thought. Then it hit me. That you are, in fact, me. And I...am the Dung Eater. It is my flesh that must receive the blessing. Give me your blessing. Defile my flesh with the seedbed curse. Again and again. Until it is done. Until a cursed ring coalesces, that may one day defile Order itself. Countless, I have killed. And countless, I have defiled. And soon the fruits will be borne. Hundreds will be reborn cursed, and they'll bear thousands of cursed children, who'll bear tens of thousands more. A few of those will be born just like me, and they'll kill, and defile, and bless in my stead! The rotten fools. My fate was the grandest, most brilliant of them all! My corporeal flesh lies in the sewer gaol beneath the Capital. Give it your blessing. Defile my flesh with the seedbed curse. Until a cursed ring coalesces, that may one day defile Order itself. Uur...urgh... A curse... A curse upon them all. They'll be born cursed, all of them. Along with their children, and their children's children, heh, for all time to come… Uur...urgh... Curse you, Golden Order. One day, you'll get what's coming. Ah...argh... No... I am... the Dung Eater... I am... ... ... ...