From the depths of the abyss, came a being. No one asked from whence it came. Its ragged voice, held wisdom, but yet dread, some sort of grave despair lingering. Like toxin dripping from a wet knife. He told of things to come, horror, dread, despair. The disease that spread through Blighttown will utter from the gurgling cesspool that once was a village underground. It will spread its way, poisoning all that it encounters. Whether this thing is hollow, or not, he has tales to tell.
