Morgott

I am Morgott, the Omen King. And who might you be? Tarnished.

Morgott: I am Morgott, the Omen King. And who might you be? Tarnished.
You: I am Iggy.
Morgott: Good sir Iggy, if you've any skill with that weapon you carry, I will pay you handsomely to act as a mercenary for me. I need a Tarnished who can stand toe to toe with the other demigods. I also sense you're a keen man who won't let me down.
You: I need better gear. The only weapon that I have is a rusty spoon.
Morgott: Very well, Tarnished. Go and slay Godrick the Grafted. I must warn you, the man has gone utterly mad. He has grafted many limbs to his body, which he claims are the limbs of dragons, and is seeking out mine own brother, a poor, cursed omen, for his blood. He will not stop at anything to become Lord of Stormveil Castle.
Morgott: I am Morgott, the Omen King. And who might you be? Tarnished.
You: How is your brother Mohg doing?
Morgott: Good sir Iggy, my brother has become an accursed Blood Omen, and has become Lord of Blood. But his actions have become... unacceptable. As much as it pains me, I may need your help to defeat him.
You: Why not drop a large bolder on him? Wouldn't that stop him by chance?
Morgott: Ah yes, that idea may work. But where is the honor in that? In his quest for blood, he has already killed countless Tarnished. I don't want our battle to end in some cheap tactic, he is my brother. I want a good, old-fashioned battle.