Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.

History

Lady Dialla

Introduction

You are not a cockroach. Strange... inundated with cockroaches, I am. Black ones, four limbs, nasty, spiky things. Are you spiky? If so, my Ribbons will pluck your spines.

Malachai liked spines. Liked {my} spine. Pretty spine, bejeweled and bountiful. Enough to make an empire weep.

Do you weep, Not-a-Cockroach? I do. Tears are infinite. Why, on this very day, I have found a new reason to cry.

The Ribbon Spool

The Ribbons are order. Clean and polish. Serve and protect.

Then those cockroaches crawled in, swarmed through the cracks. The Ribbons' Spool is taken. {Stolen}. The black ones want them, my Ribbons. Want to wrap the city in black Ribbons.

Find the Spool, Not-a-Cockroach. Look to my doorstep, where the Ribbons crush cockroaches yet. Bring the Spool, and I will find gratitude for you.

The Ribbon Spool

What is that you have, Not-a-Cockroach? My Ribbon Spool! Those black ones wanted them, my Ribbons. Wanted to wrap the city in black Ribbons.

Now they are {my} ribbons forever more. Forever more... I hate forever. I could tear 'happy ever after' from bards' bleeding tongues!

You're still here, Not-a-Cockroach? Oh, gratitude, yes. I should give you a token. Token... what token? This? Is this to your liking?

The Ribbon Spool

They are {my} ribbons forever more. Forever more... I hate forever. I could tear 'happy ever after' from bards' bleeding tongues!

You're still here, Not-a-Cockroach? Oh, gratitude. Yes, I should give you a token. A token. What token? This? Is this to your liking?

The Sewers

The cockroaches will come again. They want the Twist. That cockroach emperor... the other bugs shout his name. {Gravicius}. Cross the river, squash the emperor cockroach in his nest.

The bridge? It is barricaded? That spawns a tricky question. Questions, questions... I asked too many questions. Chitus told me so. I asked where it all went. Our... feculence. He made them show me. Under the river, the sewers from this side to that. Filthy, fetid tunnels, like a rhoa's cloaca.

A black place, crawling with the Undying. Once beautiful and arrogant Gemlings, now the foul waste of the Empire. Fitting, isn't it? Apt, apt, apt.

Thaumetic Sulphite

I like you, Not-a-Cockroach. I like that you listen. It would annoy me, if the Undying murdered you.

Thaumetic Sulphite. That's what you need. A nasty, nasty substance, it is. Malachai had his slaves mine it, carry it from northern mountains to the refinery by the docks. Ezomytes, Maraketh, Karui... it killed them all. Fevered the blood and scorched the mind.

But you are clever, Not-a-Cockroach. You will keep it at arm's length. You will bring it to me, so that I may make you something, an Infernal Talc that will bring furious light to Undying darkness.

Thaumetic Sulphite

You have Thaumetic Sulphite? You are a resourceful Unbug, now aren't you? Give it to me. I was all eyes and ears when Malachai worked. I know exactly what to do.

Thaumetic Sulphite

I like you, Not-a-Cockroach. I like that you listen. It would annoy me if the Undying murdered you.

Thaumetic Sulphite. That's what you need.

You have some already? You are a resourceful Unbug, now aren't you? Give it to me. I was all eyes and ears when Malachai worked. I will make something of your Thaumetic Sulphite. I will forge an Infernal Talc that will bring the most furious of light to the Undying darkness.

Thaumetic Sulphite

Is that Thaumetic Sulphite you carry, Not-a-Cockroach? Be careful with that. It is a most caustic substance. I don't care to see your face melt from your skull.

Infernal Talc

A dash of arcanity, a pinch of insanity, a whisper of profanity, and the Infernal Talc is now ready.

Infernal Talc

It's the most explosive of powders. A sprinkle, the gentlest of dustings of Infernal Talc will provoke gems to a molten rage. For the Undying, the very sun will rise within their flesh.

They will burn for their sins, Not-a-Cockroach. They will burn!

Malachai

I loved Malachai. He gave me gems, divine jewels for his Gemling Queen. For his {dead} Queen. But I didn't want me dead! Malachai begged: for him, for the Empire. I chose me... selfish me. The Empire died, and I live. I live, and live, and live, and live.

Chitus

I was the emperor's favourite, for a time. But Chitus had many favourites. He filled the Sceptre of God with favourites. Every now and then, he cleared away the clutter. Those who pleased him, they were given to his lords and generals. Those who did not... were given to his thaumaturgists.

I talked too much, asked too many difficult questions. I was gifted to Malachai. My dear, troubled Malachai.

General Gravicius

The Gravicius cockroach is no more. Another emperor crushed underfoot. That's what happens to emperors. What always happens. They never learn.

Dominus

You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your courtesan and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A man. The sort of man that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Shadow.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your consort and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A woman. The sort of woman that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Witch.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your disciple and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A man. The sort of man that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Templar.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your conquest and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A man. The sort of man that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Duelist.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your loving pet and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A woman. The sort of woman that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Ranger.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your conquest and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A man. The sort of man that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Marauder.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your consort and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A woman. The sort of woman that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Scion.

Highgate

Of course, there will be more. You know that, don't you? Emperors. Avaricious little pests scrabbling to steal the legacy of their betters. Unless we burn that legacy, sear its infection from the flesh of existence.

Go north, my lovely Unbug. Go to Highgate, to the beginning of the end.

Dive headlong into the nightmare sea. Catch and roast yourself a nice, big fishy.

Oyun

The time has come, Not-a-Cockroach, to crawl up into the bowels of this Nightmare, traverse its innards, and rip out its corrupted heart!

Oyun will help us. Go on now. Hob nob with the Maraketh matriarch. Learn what needs to be learned, and quickly.

There's a filthy darkness down in that mountain and it's reeking with impatience to meet you.

Malachai

The Rapture is our hope. Our desperation. It will set the Nightmare to boil, cook that nice big fishy in its own whining brine.

Listen with all of your ears, Not-a-Cockroach. The Rapture was Malachai's most wondrous creation, the only fire hot enough to burn the Beast from existence.

And its fuel? A gemling queen, blood and flesh and gem. Yet my selfish self did not want to burn away, and so the fire was but a tiny spark. The spark of a cataclysm.

I am sorry, my love, my Malachai.

Go to it, Not-a-Cockroach. Find the Rapture. Make me sorry no more.

Deshret's Banner

Impatient reekings. They waft to me from that mountain. That's all I can smell, Not-a-Cockroach. Stinking anticipation.

Voll

Voll the Pure, they called him. Voll the Murderer, I call him. In his name, an Emperor was murdered. In his name, an Empire was murdered.

Yes, it was Malachai's lips that kissed me. Yes, it was Malachai's hand that led me to the Rapture. No, no and no again. It was Voll's words that put me there.

The Rapture Device

The Rapture was to rend open the hide of Nightmare and broil the Beast's bitter innards in the sweet fire of mortality.

The vessel was strong and oh-so willing.

The medicine was oh-so weak.

The Rapture

You know, Not-a-Cockroach, had I accepted my place, my rapturous role, the Beast would be no more, no less, no anything at all. My selfishness tickled the Beast's fancy and it laughed the world I knew away.

Yet I have had much time to think on my lonesome. Much time to wonder. Wonder if the Rapture really needs to eat a Gemling Queen.

Maybe, something else will get its catastrophic juices slavering. Something like... eyeball soup!

The Eye of Fury. The Eye of Desire. Pretty gems for our pretty designs. But where could they be? Don't fret now. I have my suspicions.

Kaom, the Sovereign of Slaughter. He remains, and suffers his delusions right here in the halls of nightmare. Fury is all he knows, so Fury Kaom will have.

Daresso, King of Swords. Damned by Desire. Oh, aren't we all? He's down here too, and Desire's curse remains his to bear.

Go on, Not-a-Cockroach. Bring me the crown jewels so that we might wake the Rapture and finally put an end to this pestering Beast!

The Rapture

Fury and Desire, together again. Lovely and lovely. Facets so shiny, replete with the vim of murdered souls.

My Malachai did the crafting. Beautiful work. General Adus did the murdering. Equally beautiful work, in its own juicy way.

The Rapture

Fury and Desire, together again. Lovely and lovely. Facets so shiny, replete with the vim of murdered souls.

My Malachai did the crafting. Beautiful work. General Adus did the murdering. Equally beautiful work, in its own juicy way.

The Rapture

Fury and Desire, together again. Lovely and lovely. Facets so shiny, replete with the vim of murdered souls.

My Malachai did the crafting. Beautiful work. General Adus did the murdering. Equally beautiful work, in its own juicy way.

The Eye of Fury

Pried the Fury from Kaom's dead hand, did you? Or is it 'dead again' hand? Or 'redead' hand? Or is 'undeath' really just death with benefits?

In which case, you didn't kill Kaom because he was already dead. It's all a bit of a grey area, really. And completely beside the point.

The Eye of Desire

Pried the Desire from Daresso's dead hand, did you? Or is it 'dead again' hand? Or 'redead' hand? Or is 'undeath' really just death with benefits?

In which case, you didn't kill Daresso because he was already dead. It's all a bit of a grey area, really. And completely beside the point.

The Eye of Desire

Yet we're still one gem short. Go, Not-a-Cockroach, and relieve Daresso of his Desire.

The Eye of Fury

Yet we're still one gem short. Go, Not-a-Cockroach, and relieve Kaom of his Fury.

The Rapture

Num nums time, my little Rapture!

{"Have you ever been to the End of the World before, my King?" asked the Blackest Monkey.

"No, I have not." realised the Monkey King.

"There is my reason to go where you go, be where you be, my King," concluded the Blackest Monkey in a voice as warm and welcoming as death.}

Do you know who wrote that, Not-a-Cockroach? Victario Nevalius, the People's Poet of Sarn. He was my friend... and I betrayed him. Took his love and burned it before his eyes.

Now I am betrayed. My heart burned black by the one man I loved... Malachai.

He's found a new heart, you see. A Beast's heart to cuddle up to, to keep him warm and safe at the End of the World.

Today, I remind Malachai of his betrayal. Today, it is his turn to burn...

The Rapture

Malachai's devices, his creations... He loved them all. Not me.

He betrayed me then. Said he loved me. Then said he wanted me to die. He betrays me now. Lets me suffer. Lets me wither.

Am I the one and only mistake that you ever made, Malachai?

Yes, that's me. Dialla the Gemling Queen. Malachai's misdemeanour.

Make him regret his mistake, Not-a-Cockroach. Tear open the Beast's black heart. Rip Malachai from his filthy little nightmare. Cut him, crush him, burn him from existence!

He deserves no better, and I deserve no worse. No love for me. No love, no love... no love.

Kaom

Old axe for brains. Kaom had Eternals dragged from their homes all over the south coast.

Like sheep, he butchered them, no matter how desperately they bleated. He adorned his doorways with the heads of women and children.

What makes a hero or a villain? It depends who you ask.

Daresso

The Sword King. Before my time. Beyond my time. Where is time, anyway, when you need it? Never stands still, that's the problem!

Except if you are Daresso. Petrified with love he is. A love he doesn't realise is long, long, long... gone.

Dominus

You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your courtesan and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A man. The sort of man that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Shadow.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your consort and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A woman. The sort of woman that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Witch.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your disciple and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A man. The sort of man that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Templar.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your conquest and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A man. The sort of man that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Duelist.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your loving pet and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A woman. The sort of woman that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Ranger.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your conquest and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A man. The sort of man that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Marauder.
You have mounted the summit of the Empire, Not-a-Cockroach. You have crushed the bug emperor and wiped his maggot dreams from the skin of Wraeclast.

Dominus exiled you, naked and alone, unto the palm of Death. But you would not die, would you?

No, no... you cuddled Death, promised it the world, made it your consort and so generously shared it with all your fleeting friends here in Wraeclast.

Not once did you forget what you were. Not a cockroach feeding on the corpse of a dead empire, like the pests you crushed as you walked.

A woman. The sort of woman that planted the seed of this Empire right here in Sarn, so long ago.

What teetering and twisted life it still holds dear, this land owes to you, Scion.

Highgate

Of course, there will be more. You know that, don't you? Emperors. Avaricious little pests scrabbling to steal the legacy of their betters. Unless we burn that legacy, sear its infection from the flesh of existence.

Go north, my lovely Unbug. Go to Highgate, to the beginning of the end.

Dive headlong into the nightmare sea. Catch and roast yourself a nice, big fishy.


© 2014-2018. This site is fan-made and not affiliated with Grinding Gear Games and Garena in any way. 174592 NZ: 2018-04-26 19:27:55