The Tar Pits

The western parts of Boreas were not somewhere Artorias spent much time. Most of it seemed to be art and craggy wastelands or deserts, devoid of the necessities for life. How anyone could thrive or even just survive in an inhospitable land like this one boggled the mind. The acrid stench of the tar bubbling up from cracks in the earth hung heavy in the air and the ground was a rocky and almost unnaturally grayish-black color. Everything about this place reeked of death and decay. Artorias wrinkled his nose up at the smell. This was definitely one of the least likable places he had ever chosen to explore. But hey, when you set out to see the world, nobody said all of it was going to be pretty... The dire wolf toed the edges of the asphalt pools, watching the thick, viscous goop bubbling below. Thankfully the dangerous fluid was easily contained, so long as he didn't lose his footing, he should be totally fine.

"Artorias Carpathius"