I saw what you did to Hillock out there, Witch. Your black art is the reason you're here, in exile. It may also be the only thing that allows you to see another dawn.
I'm Nessa. And I suppose I should thank you for ridding us of that putrid giant. Back in Oriath I judged your kind without hesitation. In Wraeclast, I don't have that luxury.
Tala moana, Marauder of Ngamakanui. No need to be surprised, Karui. My father and I were amongst those who tried to save your people from ignorance and damnation. My father paid for his arrogance with his life. I'm still paying for mine.
I'm Nessa. And I suppose I should thank you ridding us of Hillock, that putrid giant you felled out there.
Be careful in the days to come. Karui savagery is nothing when compared to the ferocity that is Wraeclast.
I've seen you before, back in Oriath! Running like a frightened rabbit from my father and his gameskeepers. Fleet as a fox you were, even with that leg of prize venison over your shoulder. And from what I saw you do to Hillock, you've grown even faster since then.
I'm Nessa, and I suppose I should thank you for ridding us of that putrid giant.
I hope your speed never fails you, Ranger. It's all that stands between you and death, here in Wraeclast.
I saw what you did to Hillock out there, Shadow. Your murderous art is the reason you're here, in exile... and it'll be the one thing that sees you through to another dawn.
I'm Nessa, and I suppose I should thank you for ridding us of the putrid giant.
Back in Oriath, I feared your kind... condemned you from afar. In Wraeclast, I don't have that luxury.
Now there's a face I never expected to see in exile. The maidens of Oriath must be wailing in their beds now that their mighty Duelist has left them. Or is that why you're here? Did you perhaps choose the wrong bed in which to celebrate your conquests?
I'm Nessa, and I suppose I should thank you for ridding us of Hillock, that putrid giant you felled out there.
Back in Oriath, I disdained your kind. In Wraeclast, I don't have that luxury.
I know you. The blasphemer. That's what my father called you. God saw fit to drown my father, and everyone else I ever loved. I wonder what fate He has in store for you.
I'm Nessa, and I suppose I should thank you for ridding us of Hillock, that putrid giant you felled out there.
You know, back in Oriath, I was taught that God loved me. He has a funny way of showing His love, doesn't He, Templar.
Welcome to our home away from home... for what it's worth. I'm Nessa.
That putrid giant you just laid to rest? That was Hillock. You're lucky; he's eaten stronger exiles than you. Don't count on that luck lasting. It's in short supply here in Wraeclast.
Still, you've rid us of a curse, and we owe you our thanks.
I'd almost stopped believing in miracles. This medicine chest... it's greater than the serums and salves it holds. It tells us that we can do more in Wraeclast than merely suffer.
I've not much to offer in return but please, take something in thanks for what you've done.
Tarkleigh's as good a man as you can find on this God-forsaken coast. He has some wrongs to right, no doubt. What they are, I've never asked and I never will. If not for Tarkleigh, we'd all be dead.
Lioneye's Watch isn't much, but it's ours. We could use you here, while you live.
But, should you wish to venture out, do just one thing for me? Out on the coast, amongst the wrecks, there must be a ship's medicine chest. I have many to care for and there's only so much I can do with herbs and seawater.
I can think of only one reason why Piety would be here. She's interested in the sickness that pervades this place, the corruption that raises the dead and twists the wildlife into aberrations.
The 'Merry Gull' ran aground on the Tidal Island trying to escape from pirates. As tends to happen here in Wraeclast, her crew met a far worse fate: Cannibals.
Tarkleigh pulled Bestel from some hideaway in the wreckage... the ship's only survivor. Whether the ordeal fractured his mind or whether it was just his nature all along, it's clear that Bestel sails a different course to the rest of us.
The tale of Brutus was a popular one in the schools of Theopolis, taught in the hopes of deterring students from ambitions not condoned by the Templar.
Brutus was Warden of Axiom Prison and one of the most feared men in the Eternal Empire. But there the histories end... and the myth begins, with Brutus commissioning a witch to transform him, in a mad attempt at immortality. A moment of hubris that didn't end well... for anyone.
If it's true then Brutus has my pity. Some of us pay too dearly for our mistakes.
Yet if you insist on learning from your own mistakes then please, take one of these. You might need it.
I thought you were a fool for seeking out Merveil. A fool in love with death. Now... I don't know.
Still, you've delivered this coast from the terrors that long held sway here. We may now find some respite and that's more than any of us could have hoped for.
But please... consider this. What have you become when even nightmares fear you?