So I played through Elden Ring, and about 100 hours into my first playthrough I was already planning what build I was going to use for my second playthrough, and figured I'd go with a somewhat themed build with a bit of an RP bent. Then, while I was thinking of what I'd do with my second playthrough, I started thinking up fun little character moments for my Tarnished, as one does, and considered writing something for this fandom since it's consumed me so utterly. Then, the idea occurred to me: what if I wrote down some short thoughts on the game as I played through it, in the form of an in-character journal from the perspective of my player character?
And so here we are. I don't know if anyone else has done this before, but I thought it was a pretty novel idea, so we'll see if I manage to actually stick with it as I play. I'll be updating as I play through the game, but this first chapter is basically just a prologue. I hope you enjoy!
Log 1
My name is Accolon of Elis. I am Tarnished. A lowly wandering vagabond of no renown, an exiled and disgraced former knight, stripped of the grace of gold for my cravenness, if I ever had it to begin with. Last I can recall, I was wandering throughout the wastelands outside of what remained of my home, waiting for death to find me. Eventually, I collapsed from exhaustion, then died from starvation, or thirst, or simply because I no longer deserved to live. A fitting end for a wretch such as I.
And yet, I live once more.
For some reason I cannot fathom, the grace of gold has once again blessed me, and I have been given another chance at life. Perhaps this is the gods' idea of a cruel joke on a lowly mortal, a contrivance of happenstance, or perhaps the gods of the Lands Between are truly desperate if they've called upon me to do what champions of legend have tried and failed to do. Whatever the reason, I am alive, and I have been given a sacred duty:
Cross the fog to the Lands Between, to stand before the Elden Ring. And become the Elden Lord.
What a sick joke, setting a knight who could not even protect his home to save the Golden Order and ascend to the throne of Gods. And yet… I cannot help but be drawn to it. A second chance at life, a chance at redemption. Perhaps this is my fate? A chance to atone for my mistakes? As childish a fantasy it may be, it is all I can cling to. Even if I wanted to, it seems I cannot die as I am now, an undead creature given life anew by the grace of gold, and there's certainly no home for me to return to.
Gods, I don't even know how long it's been since I died. Does Elis even exist now? Is the name even remembered?
All I have now is this mission. That, and my arms and armor. I can only surmise that no scavenger ripped them from my corpse because they were so worn that not even a graverobber would want to steal them. But whatever the reason: my sword arm is still strong. My skills, meager as they are, are still intact. And I can still remember my oath as a knight, the tenets of chivalry. The oath that I betrayed…
I would do anything if it meant I could recall that feeling, the joy of dedicating myself to a greater cause, the feeling that I was more than just another faceless pawn. If this mission is what I have been entrusted with, then on what precious little remains of my honor as a knight, I shall see it through to the end, though hopeless it may be.
The guidance of gold has told me some of what has happened, and innkeeps and patrons, or even travelling caravans, have filled me in on the rest. The Shattering, a war that tore The Lands Between asunder… I shudder to think what awaits me at the end of this journey, but I shall not give in to fear again.
A kindly old maid donated this journal to me, and wished me well on my quest. I didn't think it would do me any good, but I didn't have the heart to tell her. Still, as I sit here, before this endless wall of fog, trying to muster up the courage to step inside, I find that it soothes me. If hiding my fears within the pages of this book will help me forget them, then so be it. And if I am to die in this place, forgotten and forsaken, then let this journal serve as my testament.
If someone is reading this, then I can only assume the worst has come to pass, and my journey was as ill-fated as I expected, and some wandering scavenger has found my sorry cadaver. Take what you will from me, it'll probably serve you better than it did me, all I ask is that you give me a decent burial. Maybe I shouldn't assume there's anything left of me to bury.
Sitting here and writing will get me nowhere. I must swallow my fear and step past the fog, into whatever hell waits beyond it.
I go now, in search of my fate. Whatever it may be.
-Accolon of Elis
