Polski strings

You damn pathetic worms, crawling out of the ground. Endless, endless streams of you.

How many times must I crush you underfoot, again and again, before you stop?

The deathless road we walk is long, and tiresome, and old. Succor is rare, and I have little to offer.

I still see an ember burning in you... good, good...

On and on, eh? This world may reduce us by half, again and again, but never quite brings us to nothing.

To be safe in nothingness, that is the evil offer we must refuse daily.

To give what little we have, is the only way to get more.

Ah, a new soul is trapped in the spiritual rapids. Please, come talk to me when you can.

The Seven alignments, the Seven seals, Seven sources of power. Draw deeply from them and prosper.

Yes, drink from the wellspring of knowledge, and grow.

The Dragons, the Giants, the Old Gods, all gone now. But traces of their power remains.

The centuries have come and gone, but their wisdom lingers in me.

Listen and prosper, fair Knight.

Greetings, Cursemarked... it's been many years since the last sorrowful visitor appeared here.

I see the contemptible Void Eye has pierced you, alas. It's poison straight to the heart.

As a small comfort, please take this, I offer it humbly.

An Attunement Sigil... its small warmth is a rare thing in this place.

Bring me them, and I will shed their warmth upon you, enlightening you to new skills.

Talismans carry a light all their own. Bring me three, and I shall draw forth something new.

The new talisman will be at least as rare as the least rare of your offerings. Choose what you surrender carefully.

I've returned from a long journey. I have much to show you...

A lone rune hums softly. Two in harmony begin to sing.

Do not force the pattern. Open a new hollow, and the old stones will show their kin.

Some powers sleep beside each other in silence, waiting for an empty place between them.

Each new hollow is a small permission. The runes hear it, and draw closer to their true shape.

Be patient with the lattice. When there is room enough, even quiet runes will speak to one another.

You have a patchwork soul... try not to look yourself in the eye.

That strange feeling won't go away, but it will at least become familiar.

No refunds, it can't be undone. Now begone from my sight.

My little creation, go forth and let time bury your pain.

You carry your little bodkins so daintily, hung from the flesh.

Give 'eet here, let me fasten it upon your soul, heheh...

Dern bridge has been out for a century... I s'pose I could fit it up...

Don't really got the motivation yet, heh heh...

Done and delivered, get movin', ya got a long way to go by the looks of ye.

The joke is that you think you're free. Truthfully, you are no more than this body I puppeteer.

A marionette, animated by forces far beyond your comprehension.

You come, you fight, you die. It's all just so much gaudy theatre.

Well, the audience is waiting. The show must begin.

Thou standest here at the last, with that pale spark thou callest a soul.

For death is no outward door to thee, Cursemarked.

I shall restore thee, so ye shall never leave the prison of thine own life.

Yes, well done. A small light in the sea might just tread through the darkness.

I'll wait for you at the Shrine of Valoria, tending this fragile light.

As promised, Cursemarked. I carried this small light through the sea. And will carry you as well.

The sea is dark, a strange at night. We won't get far without a lantern...

Celestial

Divine

Draconic

Ice