AC:DM CD Lore/Fourth Sending Texts/Shadow Whispers

Shadow Whispers

Those who attempted to attack Bael'Zharon after his release from the Shard of the Herald reported a legion of whispers calling to him from the darkness. Here they are recorded.

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “The outlanders cannot harm Him.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “The weapons of the outlanders cannot pierce Him.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “The arts of the outlanders cannot bind Him.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “They will try to harm Him, but will fail.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “They will learn the error of resisting Him.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “You are mighty among us, Herald.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “He gathers His strength.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “When, Master? Soon?”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “Shall I kill it, Master?”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “Praise to you, Herald.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “I hear Him. I hear Him. I hear Him...”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “We await thy bidding, Master.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “Shall we bring Dule before you, Herald?”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “We are yours to command.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “It begins…. Soon….”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “It squeals as we bleed it. Is it not sweet, lord?”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “Would you have my life, Herald?”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “All we are is yours.”

You hear a reverent voice whisper, “Master? Might I have a portal to Tethana?”

You hear a sibilant voice chanting, “All-one-together.”

You hear a sibilant voice chanting, “In-dreams-all-one.”

You hear a sibilant voice chanting, “Burning-melting-passage.”

You hear a sibilant voice chanting, “Beginning-all-time-come-return-ever-know-all-be-all-glorious.”

* * *

There is a slight change in pressure within the chamber. You hear a quiet voice say, “You return, Ilservian. I am…pleased.” The pressure quickly bleeds away.

Like a silent black liquid, a powerful presence flows into the chamber, bringing the smell of decay and death. You hear a low voice say, “An ye shall become the Slayer of Hope once more, aye, my friend?” The impression fades.

Winds gust and howl through the chamber. Through the blustering noise, strange laughter may be discerned: high-pitched, child-like, with an edge of cruel and twisted steel. You hear a shrill voice cry, “These outlanders are delectable, my old friend. So young, so innocent…. Ah, when shall I have more? I wish to gather them all in….” The impression fades.

* * *

You hear a voice murmur, “And how many of us shall there be?”

A chorus of whispers responds, “More than we are now.”

“And where shall we come from?”

“The caverns; the badlands; the ends of distal forests; the depths of the wildest seas.”

“And what shall be our end?”

“The opening of the Way.”

“And shall we fear the light?”

“Never shall we fear.”

“And why shall we not fear?”

“For all the candles in the world are but a match before It.”