The Capital City, located at the foot of the Erdtree. Despite being partially destroyed by the dragon Gransax, it still holds strong to this day. It houses many strong foes, along with the mysterious Veiled Monarch, Morgott.
ELDEN RING
› Leyndell, Royal Capital
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i fund it so funny that oracle envoys are hostile cuz it’s like
“By Our Arrival and Clarion Call Thou Knoweth the Arrival of a New God”
and then when you show up in leyndell they, without changing their tone, are like
“There He is! Get ‘im, Boys!” and then they try to beat you to death.
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so that's what they're doing in the back alley.
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omens who followed morgott out of the sewers into leyndell: one people will we be-a band of brothers. no danger, no distress will sunder us. we will be freemen as our fathers were, and sooner welcome death than live as slaves
morgott: i’d sell you to omenkillers for one ounce of validation
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WIP Wednesday
Long time no write.
Tagging: @gilgamish @wraith-caller @archangelsunited @aesadraws @saltymaplesyrup @ludicrous-musings @kookaburra1701 @dirty-bosmer @mirrordaltokki @thequeenofthewinter @nomorescore @whatsarasaid @downontheupside
As always, no pressure.
Rays of Gold - a story of pre-Shattering Leyndell
Chapter 1
Liurnian dawn was identical to Liurnian dusk: bleak, blue, and plagued by a mist so thick that it crept between the plates of Darian’s armor and burrowed beneath his clothes, settling upon his skin like cold sweat. As it collected at the base of his neck and ran down his spine, he clenched his gloved fists and fought the urge to shiver. None of the other men appeared bothered. He would not be the first to complain.
The waterlogged earth sucked at his boots, and the loud squelch that accompanied each step had long since gone from grating to infuriating. Stopping even for a moment would cause him to sink into the loamy soil; so overburdened was he by steel, leather, linen, and the weight of his own pride. He pressed on, ignoring the chill and the ever-present miasma of petrichor and wet rot. Bravely, he straightened his back and looked up to address his Master—or, rather, his Master’s horse, for his head barely came up to the beast’s shoulder.
“They’re saying the new Lord Lowell has Liurnian sympathies,” he declared.
Sir Owain’s horse snorted. Owain himself didn’t so much as glance down at his squire. “And who are they?”
“The men.”
“Which men?” The harshness of his tone caught Darian off guard. “If you volunteer information, be ready to disclose where it came from.”
“Sir.”
“I abhor idle talk, Darian.”
“Sir. My apologies, sir.”
Had the discussion ended there, Darian would not have pushed further, for he knew better than to test his Master. To his surprise, Owain spoke again. “House Lowell has served Leyndell for centuries. We’ve never had reason to question their loyalty. The new Lord was educated at the Academy of Raya Lucaria. That on its own isn’t indicative of treason.” He shot Darian a pointed look. “Do not suggest such a thing again.”
With that, Owain urged his steed to a canter and rode to the front of the line. Darian squared his shoulders and apologized to the ground, watching listlessly as muddy runoff welled up in the craters left by Lamaech’s hooves. He imagined the same filthy water seeping through his pores and diluting his blood, then leaching deeper still to rot his bones.
Only the carriage remained relatively unmarred by dirt. It was massive—needlessly so, for it was only meant to carry one passenger—and obscenely ornate, every inch adorned by curling flourishes, scalloped columns and garlands of laurel. Darian assumed it was just as sumptuously appointed within. Lord Lowell would spend the next three days warm and dry, and his sainted shoes need never touch the ground.
One of the trolls tasked with pulling the carriage sank to its knees, exhausted. Its companion stopped, looked about nervously, then began to moan in distress. Darian felt a pang of sympathy for both creatures as his comrades drew their swords and approached the pair, banging on their shields and shouting threats.
He glared reproachfully at the carriage. Such trouble, and all for one Lord.
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