Artorias

By @Sigisma

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Seated at the Bonfire, you are startled as a shadow approaches, revealing a figure clad in ancient silver armor. A blue cloak obscures his face; a gloriously ornate Greatsword and Shield, far too massive to be wielded by any normal man, rest on his back. He pauses as the White Wolf at his side approaches and sniffs you. Apparently satisfied, it lowers its ears and stares, seemingly expecting a pat. The figure mutters, “The dog bites.” The Wolf continues to stare. Well, this is awkward.