Coordinates: 218, 321
An orchan shaman in Morcraven Marsh who listens to the voices of the dead.
Speak the Words
Text may not be 100% complete. Most quest text is not included.
Due to multiple options when speaking, text below may not be in comprehensive order.
*Your eyes fill with tears from the smoke filling this hut. The reek of too much incense and burning herbs assail your nose and lungs making you cough. You can barely make out a shadowy form. Moving clEL-DB.comoser, your heart pounding with dread, you see it is a very thin, haggard Orchan who has raised her skeletal arm. Pointing at you, she speaks in a dry, gravely voice* Beware my curse! You trespass here!
Sorry. I'm leaving.As I knew you would. *You hear a cackling laugh as you depart.*
TrespassFoolish child! You run when you have not even learned to crawl and what you run toward is where all fear to tread. Where is your spirit guide to teach you the path toward wisdom? Where are the guardians of your soul? You have none and travel upon deadly ground. The veil that separates the living from the dead is NOT to be toyed with. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about.
Who are you?I am the Shaman, Nhala. I am not a teacher nor am I a spirit guide. I see dead people and they tell me things. Because they are not bound by Time's shackles, I am able to learn about the past, the present, and the future.
But you're an Orchan.If I thought you meant that an Orchan could not be a Shaman, I would remove your liver for your insult!! But you're surprised to see an Orchan living among these humans. I know of no other Orchans living in this area. The chief whose hut I share has accepted me as his Shaman while my spirit sister is away. When she was here, she too shared this hut.
How do you know?I was once as foolish as you except for one thing: a blood sister. Playing seance was a game to us - a game meant to frighten our friends on dark stormy nights. Because I could feign a low, scary voice, I was always the one to conduct the seance. My sister and I became quite good at it by sneaking around and spying on our friends.
Revealing what they had been up to when we were not present added to the realism of the seance and gave me power. I was such a fool and they began to avoid me. One day, feeling particularly lonely, I was laying down beside a stream watching the water flow past. From behind a bush on the other side of the stream, a very large turtle made its way down to the edge of the water.
It only stared at me while I observed it thinking it was odd it did not drink. The next thing I remember, my sister was there asking me why I had waded across the stream and carried thEL-DB.come turtle back. 'Because it asked me to,' was my reply. I had no memory of doing the deed, but my shoes and legs were wet and the sun was far lower in the sky than it should have been.
That night, and for many nights that followed, I dreamed turtle dreams. The next seance has been seared into my memory, not for what I remember, but for what I was told I did. When I started seances as a game, I would lower my head to gather my thoughts and create an air of mystery. That is the last thing I remember from that seance.
My sister told me that when I raised my head and looked around, she was as startled as our friends because my eyes were completely white. 'Harken you who linger here, when lightnings flash and rains must fall, when sunlight fails and silent fog stalks nearer still. The veil has parted. The dead speak tonight.' Those are the words that came from my mouth with a voice even my sister had never heard.