Chosen Undead"Yeah." The Knight responded for Caules.
The titanite armor was only making the Undead man even more uncomfortable as it got colder. '
That's it,' he thought, '
I'm going to drink some of it.'
The Knight took hold of one of his two remaining Estus Flasks, lifted up his face guard, and took a swig. The feeling of warmth was immediate, going down his throught and resting in his stomach. He was careful to not drink much of the substance, for there wasn't much of it left. "Let's hurry up and find a place soon, Caules. This weather isn't agreeing with me that well."
Azmortchal'um, as a False FaceStephen Lumbridge was forty-five years old, and was a resident of Nexus City for the last twenty years. He was a day manager of a sporting goods store in one of the various complexes of the Shopping District. Every day, he heads to work alone thirty minutes before his shift actually starts. He is good friends with his co-workers, though he never eats out with them or partake in their parties. When questioned, they don't even really know where he lives, exactly, just that he walks in from the eastern direction.
Today, while walking to work, Stephen encountered a mugger who was wielding a knife, who was quite insistent about taking his wallet. Upon refusal, the mugger attempted to stab Stephen in the gut. What the mugger didn't know was that the current Stephen was actually a False Face, an Azmortchal pure form that was sculpted in the appearance of a person already infected.
Instead of the knife entering Stephen's gut, the stomach instead opened up into a toothy maw, which promptly bit off the mugger's hand (Along with the bit of shirt that was over it). With a sickening sound, Stephens arms rapidly morphed into tentacles with sharp, bony bits. The left tentacle ripped the other man's throat out while the right promptly disemboweled the guy.
Stephen's going to call in sick today.