Silk Topic /23
| NPC | Name |
|---|---|
| Eramir | Tales and songs are Silk's meat and drink. Would have made a fine bard in the old Empire. Were a fraction of what he says true, we'd have nothing to fear from bandit nor beast with Silk among us. |
| Yeena | Silk knows more than others think. He watches, he learns. Look between the words and you will see the truth in Silk's stories. |
| Greust | Silk is no hunter. Silk scares children with stories at fire time. That Eight-Leg he wears... he did not kill it. Found it in the forest, dead of age. I would like to see Silk face live Eight-Leg one day. See him wrapped up for lunch. |
| Yeena | I watch Silk for many days, scurrying to this old Vaal stone, scurrying to that old Vaal ruin, always muttering. He talked and talked and talked yet I heard no one answer. The Spirit warned that I should stay away from him. It pained me. Silk is my friend, yet I must listen to Spirit. I go from Silk's side and now he is gone from mine. I do not know where Silk go, but I see him in dreams. He is caught in great spider web that stretch into darkness. And that spider web, it is full of bones, more bones from more people than I ever see in my life. If you find Silk, please, free him from the web. Don't let him become bones like the rest. |
| Yeena | What you tell me of Silk, this I understand, though I do not want to. I have spent many nights pondering Silk's journey, why he has stepped from the Spirit path. Now I know. He has walked into the eight arms of blind lust. Arakaali. Silk is a warning to us all. He is trying to take the short trail to greatness, to the story Spirit has made for him. Silk tries to steal his story but now he holds only a lie. Please, you must find the place where this Arakaali sleeps in her web of shadow. You must stop Silk before he wakes her, a mistake that we all will come to regret. The Spirit tells me this is so. |
| Yeena | I miss my friend. Silk knew the Spirit as I did. We would talk, understand it, together. Now there is no one but me. |
| Eramir | It started with a few mumblings in his slumber, then long forays into the wilds, searching for relics of a distinctly arachnid nature. I thought it a natural extension of Silk's eccentric persona at first. Then came the sleepless nights studying those relics, the fevered recitations in broken Vaalish, the strange eight phase rituals... Then one night Silk gathered his collection and scuttled off into the darkness without a word. Silk has always been susceptible to fine fictions. Perhaps he has finally shunned reality altogether. |
| Eramir | What? He's intending to make matrimony with Arakaali? My word, that's quite a story even for Silk! Yes, I know that name, and the place to which it is purportedly attached. A temple to the north, now in ruins. If Silk intends unholy congress with this Arakaali, that is the most likely place we would seek it. |
| Eramir | Poor Silk. Like so many before him, Silk succumbed to a most insidious disease. Ambition. That craving for greatness. An irresistible compulsion to leave one's mark on the world. There's another name for marks like that. Scars. |
| Helena | I didn't think it possible for Silk to grow any more peculiar, but then I've been wrong about so many things since coming to Wraeclast that I shouldn't have been at all surprised. Still, it's interesting that his behaviour of late has mirrored that of certain Templar zealots I had the dubious pleasure of meeting back in Theopolis. Like them, Silk appeared obsessed with finding answers to this reality in some ethereal realm of divinity. For my part, I prefer to keep faith in this world. The answers that come from 'beyond' are seldom the ones we want. |
| Silken Hood | |
| Silken Vest | |
| Silken Garb | |
| Silk Robe | |
| Silken Wrap | |
| Spidersilk Robe | |
| Necromancer Silks | |
| Widowsilk Robe | |
| Silk Slippers | |
| Silk Gloves | |
| Fingerless Silk Gloves | |
| Silkweave Sole | |
| Deadhand Talisman | The Empire poisons our blood with sweet wine. Poisons our flesh with silk. Poisons our minds with civil lies. Poisons our children with servitude. - The Wolven King |