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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

NPC

Name

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.

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

Name
You and me... we are the same. We dream big. We find new places. We do not tell stories. Stories are told about us! I learn the words, the ways of Oriath. You listen to me and not pig heads like Greust. Then you will live to find more new places. — Introduction
Many exiles come this way. Eramir is not like them. Not like you. He is an old man with many stories. He teaches us words that you can understand. He teaches we Azmeri to be strong, not in our arms and legs like Greust. Strong in our heads. — Eramir
I like Yeena. She thinks bigger than this place. She knows there is more to life than hunting and growing morcha. There is Spirit. — Yeena
Greust is the big man in the tribe. All do what Greust says... but his spear goes limp when faced with the Eight-Legs. — Greust
I like this new Oriathan woman. She has new stories, not like Eramir who only speak of that which is dead and dust. Yes, I have many questions for this Helena. — Helena
I have story for you. A good story... but not finished. I go into eight-leg forest in south-west... meet the mother of all eight-legs. We fight, big fight, from sunrise to sunset. I stick my best spear in mother's eye and return to village. Must not stay away too long. Must protect my people. Now my best spear still in mother's eye! Eramir said to leave it there, that my spear is a thing made for 'dark science', whatever that be. No, I want it back, but Mother Eight-leg would smell me from far off. Catch me by surprise. She doesn't know your smell, so you go. Get my spear. Finish good story with good ending. — Maligaro's Spike
That spear... yes, that is my best spear, the one I stuck in eye of old Mother Eight-leg. I think you keep it now. Let the beasts and bandits fear you even more. It is my gift to you. From one hero to another. Wait... no, you need more than just spear and happy words for this great deed. You kill mother of all eight legs! You need prize. Here, when I found my spear in the forest, I found these too. You will take, yes? — Maligaro's Spike
What has happened? Did the world not rise from its sleep? How do we wake it up? Please... what should we do?! — The Darkness
Her fur, her skin, it remind me of biting winter. I see her one night, follow her to a cave in the Old Fields, to the east. Listened to her howl at the stars. A sad, sad sound. Great white beast, she full of old pain. — The Great White Beast
Great White beast is dead? Then make a tale, a song to sing, of the mighty exile and their teacher, Silk the Wise. Many will be impressed, yes? — The Great White Beast
The road? It runs east and west of here. To the west it passes the bandit woman's camp, then turns south, to the sea. But you say it is now blocked? I have seen a strange thing in the rock by the south pass. Like one of Greust's carvings, but of stone. You should go look at it. What has been closed might be opened again. — Blocked Passage
The pass to the sea is open? You are a legend that lives, exile! — Reopened Passage
I knew this strangeness would pass. Silk does not run from such things. I stand, I guard when others shiver and shake. — The Light
Hello to you, Great Dreamer! — SilkIntro
We have woven a tale together in days past. Perhaps we shall again? We make mighty stories, you and I, and now I have daunting task before me... the last in my great journey. Near to us, cast in shadow, a monster awaits. Black Death is his name, a beauteous eight-leg, twisted grotesque by the master of these loathsome halls. I wish to give this eight-leg the merciful peace he deserves, and to save what is still beautiful, the elixir that only Black Death can make. Please, will you find him, kill this Black Death, take the eight-leg's venom for me? I may be fearsome warrior but Black Death's master has made him into a thing more monstrous than even I can best. Who knows? Perhaps Black Death is too strong even for you? — Black Venom
The Black Venom! Oh, Great Dreamer who has done great deeds, I shall see to it that my queen rewards you with honour and mercy when she rises up to claim what is hers. Yes, this elixir, so aged and potent, shall be life-giving draught that she sips upon first waking. It is my gift to her... my wedding gift! Great Dreamer, you be wrapped in silken finery and made welcome at our wedding feast. Guest of honour, and oh what a feast we all shall enjoy! — Black Venom
I have climbed the great eight-leg web. I know the eight-legs like no other. This eight-leg, this Black Death, is one of the oldest and most fearsome eight-legs in all this land and beyond. To its shame, it was made pet, plaything, by the malicious master of this place. For years countless it grew in pain. Pain is all it knows, all it can understand, all it can give. End Black Death's pain, for all and once. — Black Death
My great journey led me to places of great power beyond even your stories, Great Dreamer. I am carried on legs and webs and shadows. That is all you can know for now. — Silk's Journey
My bride has arrived, exile! I hope you brought a wedding gift! — SilkPreBoss
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Name

You and me... we are the same. We dream big. We find new places. We do not tell stories. Stories are told about us!

I learn the words, the ways of Oriath. You listen to me and not pig heads like Greust. Then you will live to find more new places.
— Introduction

Many exiles come this way. Eramir is not like them. Not like you.

He is an old man with many stories. He teaches us words that you can understand. He teaches we Azmeri to be strong, not in our arms and legs like Greust. Strong in our heads.
— Eramir

I like Yeena. She thinks bigger than this place. She knows there is more to life than hunting and growing morcha. There is Spirit.
— Yeena

Greust is the big man in the tribe. All do what Greust says... but his spear goes limp when faced with the Eight-Legs.
— Greust

I like this new Oriathan woman. She has new stories, not like Eramir who only speak of that which is dead and dust. Yes, I have many questions for this Helena.
— Helena

I have story for you. A good story... but not finished. I go into eight-leg forest in south-west... meet the mother of all eight-legs. We fight, big fight, from sunrise to sunset. I stick my best spear in mother's eye and return to village. Must not stay away too long. Must protect my people.

Now my best spear still in mother's eye! Eramir said to leave it there, that my spear is a thing made for 'dark science', whatever that be. No, I want it back, but Mother Eight-leg would smell me from far off. Catch me by surprise. She doesn't know your smell, so you go. Get my spear. Finish good story with good ending.

— Maligaro's Spike

That spear... yes, that is my best spear, the one I stuck in eye of old Mother Eight-leg. I think you keep it now. Let the beasts and bandits fear you even more. It is my gift to you. From one hero to another.

Wait... no, you need more than just spear and happy words for this great deed. You kill mother of all eight legs! You need prize. Here, when I found my spear in the forest, I found these too. You will take, yes?
— Maligaro's Spike

What has happened? Did the world not rise from its sleep? How do we wake it up? Please... what should we do?!
— The Darkness

Her fur, her skin, it remind me of biting winter. I see her one night, follow her to a cave in the Old Fields, to the east. Listened to her howl at the stars. A sad, sad sound. Great white beast, she full of old pain.
— The Great White Beast

Great White beast is dead? Then make a tale, a song to sing, of the mighty exile and their teacher, Silk the Wise. Many will be impressed, yes?
— The Great White Beast

The road? It runs east and west of here. To the west it passes the bandit woman's camp, then turns south, to the sea.

But you say it is now blocked? I have seen a strange thing in the rock by the south pass. Like one of Greust's carvings, but of stone. You should go look at it. What has been closed might be opened again.
— Blocked Passage

The pass to the sea is open? You are a legend that lives, exile!
— Reopened Passage

I knew this strangeness would pass. Silk does not run from such things. I stand, I guard when others shiver and shake.
— The Light

Hello to you, Great Dreamer!
— SilkIntro

We have woven a tale together in days past. Perhaps we shall again? We make mighty stories, you and I, and now I have daunting task before me... the last in my great journey.

Near to us, cast in shadow, a monster awaits. Black Death is his name, a beauteous eight-leg, twisted grotesque by the master of these loathsome halls. I wish to give this eight-leg the merciful peace he deserves, and to save what is still beautiful, the elixir that only Black Death can make.

Please, will you find him, kill this Black Death, take the eight-leg's venom for me? I may be fearsome warrior but Black Death's master has made him into a thing more monstrous than even I can best. Who knows? Perhaps Black Death is too strong even for you?
— Black Venom

The Black Venom! Oh, Great Dreamer who has done great deeds, I shall see to it that my queen rewards you with honour and mercy when she rises up to claim what is hers. Yes, this elixir, so aged and potent, shall be life-giving draught that she sips upon first waking. It is my gift to her... my wedding gift!

Great Dreamer, you be wrapped in silken finery and made welcome at our wedding feast. Guest of honour, and oh what a feast we all shall enjoy!
— Black Venom

I have climbed the great eight-leg web. I know the eight-legs like no other. This eight-leg, this Black Death, is one of the oldest and most fearsome eight-legs in all this land and beyond. To its shame, it was made pet, plaything, by the malicious master of this place. For years countless it grew in pain. Pain is all it knows, all it can understand, all it can give.

End Black Death's pain, for all and once.
— Black Death

My great journey led me to places of great power beyond even your stories, Great Dreamer. I am carried on legs and webs and shadows. That is all you can know for now.
— Silk's Journey

My bride has arrived, exile! I hope you brought a wedding gift!
— SilkPreBoss

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