Chapter Text
The call of long lost grace speaks to us all. To those of grand names, carrying a legacy with them. To the famous. The infamous. It beckons those who know their path and those who still need to find it. Forging legends, so that one day a Tarnished might arise to claim the title of Elden Lord and bring back order into the Lands Between.
Names that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard them. Carrying power... and fear. Warriors, saints, companions of death, curse ridden madmen and all-knowing scholars. All of them, ready to take from the lands to see their goals fulfilled.
And there, between those flames that burned bright and glorious, a single Tarnished arose from death. No name to claim his own, no past to be remembered. Blessed yet again by grace, to stand before the Elden Ring.
A man of no renown. A nobody. And yet grace brought him back... underestimating his devotion and unable to foresee the path he would take. For his destiny wasn't bound to warmth and gold, but to the cold of the dark night.
Oh arise now, ye Tarnished... and bear witness to the beginning of the end.
Welcome the Age of Stars.
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The Tarnished tried to hold back a yawn as he entered the crumbling building of the Church of Elleh. His feet hurt and his wrist felt sore from swinging his blade all day long. Though his hardship hadn't been for naught, proven by the not too shabby amount of runes in his possession. Finally he'd be able to afford that crafting kit from Kalè.
When the Tarnished first made acquaintance with the nomadic merchant that morning, the man recommended he buy that ominous crafting kit. The Tarnished, clad in a simple chainmail armor and only with his sword and a crimson tear flask on his body, felt inclined to put trust in the words of the merchant. After all, he was a stranger to living in the Lands Between and what it took to make surviving in this hostile world just a little easier. So he spent the rest of his day slaying maddened soldiers and beasts, giving his blade ample opportunity to taste blood.
His memories of what his life was like before his reawakening in the Church of Anticipation was as good as nonexistent. He didn't even know what his name was. All he did know was how to swing his sword and that he had to follow the call of Grace. People simply called him Tarnished and he saw no problem with that. As long as they didn't all start calling him maidenless.
He had met three people so far that didn't seem to be on the lookout to kill him. And while he could forgive Melina for calling him maidenless, especially since she had helped him greatly by gifting him Torrent and the power to turn runes into strength, that wasn't so much the case with that creepy figure Varré. Tarnished he might be, but there was pride left in him! The Tarnished still felt that it had been a great overreaction when the white masked man started to beat him with a bouquet of roses after he punched him square in the face for calling him maidenless.
With a confident stride he walked towards the campfire in the back of the church, pausing when he saw the merchant fast asleep. Kalé's scrawny donkey laid beside him, only looking up lazily when it heard the footsteps. Slightly disappointed, the Tarnished sighed before shrugging his shoulders. His purchase had to wait till the morning. Thinking about it, with his sluggish steps and heavy arms, sleep looked like a good course of action.
With an exhausted sigh he sat by the site of Grace, enjoying the warmth it gave him. It was different from the warmth of flames, it felt like it radiated through his whole body. Caressing any wounds and gifting energy to tackle whatever might lie ahead. Just as he felt his eyelids grow heavy, he heard a woman's soft and measured voice break through the quiet of the night. “This way, Tarnished. May I have a word?”
The Tarnished swiftly jumped to his feet, his blade already in his hand and pointed at the intruder. A woman sat on a crumbling piece of wall, her skin pale blue and the brim of a big witch's hat dousing her face in shadow, concealing any facial expressions from view. She had four slender arms, one set folded over her lap and the other set laid together at the fingertips. The Tarnished didn't see her eyes, but he knew she was watching him. And for some reason he had the suspicion she was smirking at him and his defensive demeanor.
“Who are you?”, he asked with his hoarse voice, rusted by decades of no usage.
The witch was unimpressed. “A pleasure to meet thee, Tarnished. I am the witch Renna.”
She raised her head and he was able to see her face. It was beautiful. Smooth skin in the same pale blue as her arms and there was an ever so small smile on her lips. As he took a closer look, he saw how the skin on her left cheek and her neck seemed blemished, almost like it cracked. Was that... porcelain?
What truly caught his attention though where her eyes. One was a bright and crystal clean blue, shimmering in the light of the moon and reminding him of a sapphire. The other eye was shut, some kind of marking that the Tarnished couldn't quite make out on that side. A spectral reflection seemed to compensate for that shut eye, hovering besides her face. The reflection seemed much more emote and... smirked at him mockingly. He knew it!
“I'd heard tell of a Tarnished hurtling about atop a spectral steed. And upon looking into the matter, the talk, I surmise, is of thee.” She slightly tilted her head. “Thou'rt possessed of the power, no? To call forth the spectral steed named Torrent.”
The Tarnished, after realizing that this woman wasn't out for his blood, slowly lowered his sword and answered: “Yes, I can call Torrent.” He held the whistle Melina gave him up.
Renna seemed pleased with that answer. “Ah. As I had hoped. I was entrusted this, for thee. By Torrent's former master.” She slipped two hands inside her big fur coat, before pulling out a small silver bell and an inconspicuous gray box. She held both items out for the Tarnished to take. The man, still at the site of Grace, stood there and looked at her surprised. Would he really just get those items as a gift? No. Nothing in the Lands Between was for free and genuine kindness was rarer to find than any gemstone. The witch looked at him amused. “Come hither, Tarnished. I mean thee no harm. 'Tis only my wish to fulfill a promise I made many moons ago.”
Slowly, the Tarnished made his way towards her, on guard and ready to react to an attack at any moment. But the assault he expected never came and so he was standing in front of the witch. It seemed to be a little colder around her and just now did he notice the heavy fog around his feet. The smell of winter, of freshly fallen snow and long cold nights, was surrounding the witch like a subtle perfume.
Still tense he reached out and took the items out of her outstretched hands. Their fingertips touched for but a moment, yet the Tarnished still felt how cold her skin was. As he retracted his hand he looked down at the two items in it. The bell was delicate and ornate, while there were only three wolves crudely engraved on the gray box.
Renna continued: “Tis a bell to call forth spirits. Summon them with it, from ash unreturned to the Erdtree. The spirits will obey thine command but briefly, as they recall battles past. Now it is thine. To do with as thou wishest.”
The Tarnished hesitated for another moment, before putting the items in his pouch and giving the witch a slight bow. “I... Thank you.” He still waited for the caveat to this interaction. What was the end-goal of this mysterious woman?
She just gave him a dignified bow of her head in answer to his thanks. “Forgive mine intrusion, Tarnished. I doubt we shall again meet. But all the same, learn well the Lands Between.” Renna stopped for a brief second, before musing: “How long will it be, I wonder...” The look she gave him was full of thought. “Before the Tarnished tire of obeisance to the Two Fingers?” And with that she dissolved into thousands of bright blue sparks, carried away by the wind.
The Tarnished stood where she left him, a frown on his face as he looked in the direction the sparks flew. What did she mean by those last words? He shook his head and returned to the site of Grace, feeling the new items in his pouch as he lied down.
This was his first day in the Lands Between after his awaking by the call of Grace... and if today's events were anything to go by, he surely would never experience boredom.