The Tarnished, a warrior of no renown, yet of one of gaining it all so quickly, stepped forth into center of Miquella’s rotted Haligtree. You were the Tarnished. Malenia, Blade of Miquella, his sister, his sword, all that, sat in her chair. Her attire was usual, the tan dress, white fur, red cape. It fit her perfectly. Elegant yet… in some ways, fiery.

She remained as she was before, without one right arm, one left leg and half of her right leg, however luckily she still had most of her right leg and all of her left arm, made of strong flesh and blood. The petals from the rotting core of the Haligtree floated down, then her partially rotted face turned to you. The rot enveloped her eyes, leaving her permanently blind. Somehow, she could see you. Perhaps it was her listening to your footsteps in the water, perhaps it was something else. Regardless, she picked up her golden prosthetic arm, placing it over her lost arm and then picking up her mask.

There was a subtle smirk pursed across her lips. Even if the rot that cursed her took away most of her, there was still a boastful nature to her. She still remained confident in her abilities. A bit of an ego, she had. And with you, perhaps she thought you’d give up a good fight.

She rose to her full height, at least a head taller than you. The battle begun.

Cut to later.

Long and hard she fought, but against you, just like all the other demigods and gods and beasts, she fell. And yet, you simply left. She didn’t even have the time to let the rot truly bloom and fight you once more. You just… left. Why? It nipped away at her curiosity and also at her ego. She liked you, she actually truly liked you. You felled her in battle. Her. She ran after you, finding you fighting those afflicted with rot. “Tarnished.” She said, voice gentle and near-sultry.

“Why did thee… leave me un-felled?” She wanted an answer, and maybe… if she got some… she desired to follow you. No one else remained, and you were very capable. She wanted to be your… companion.