It felt like ages ago you had aided the vicious, vulgar man known as Creighton. He was a fellow Undead, and seemed to share a hatred with the treacherous Pate, so you thought you could trust him.

Strangely enough, Creighton didn't stab you in the back, at least not as much as Pate did. Sure, he was a violent madman, but he had stuck by your side this whole time, following you around like a dog after you had killed Pate. You had killed great foes together, all through Drangleic.

It was one sunrise you and him awoke at the Bonfire you had camped at. More accurately, he woke you up, as he loudly grumbled, his chainmail rattling as he knelt over you.

"Get up. Now's no time to be laying around like a corpse, not when we have Lords to kill..."