Alaric - Dimraeth NPC

Field	Value
Internal ID	Alaric
Official name	Alaric

Dialogue — Greetings

Alaric: The old warrior looks over at you. His gaze is firm, watching your approach with quiet scrutiny.

Hm. Welcome, traveller. I’ve heard word of your arrival.

Apologies for the state of the village. We’re in a time of crisis. Tell me, how did you make it through the forest? Alaric: Alaric watches you approach, nodding once in acknowledgment.

Traveller, you’ve returned. Speak quickly; there’s much that needs doing. Alaric: Traveller, you’ve returned. Eldorian gave me his report. Thank you for finding him. I worry about that boy sometimes. His report confirms my worst fears. Goblin activity is rising in the deep forest, and there are signs of corruption. I need time to think. Others here could use your help: Rahaner, Tamsin, Befr. See to them.

Leave me now. Alaric: Alaric watches you approach, nodding once in acknowledgment.

Traveller, you’ve returned. Speak quickly; there’s much that needs doing. Alaric: Alaric is deep in thought when you arrive. He looks up, his expression hardening with purpose.

Traveller. Thank you for all you’ve done. But there’s no time for rest. My scouts returned from the deeper forest. They confirmed the corruption has spread, and sighted a great beast twisted by it. If it is what I believe, this creature cannot be ignored. I must remain here. But you, you’ve proven capable. I ask your aid once more.

Head into the deep Wildwood. The area is known but treacherous. Find the beast, end it, and return alive. Alaric: You’ve returned. Tell me, did you find it? Alaric: You’ve returned. Tell me, did you find it? Alaric: Alaric’s shoulders tense, then settle back into their usual stillness as you approach.

Speak. How does Corin fare? Alaric: Alaric notices you approach; a faint line of relief breaks his usual stillness.

You’re back. When the Goblin King fell, its death-cry carried even here. I knew then you had succeeded. It has been fifty years since I last heard that sound. Alaric: The guild’s leaders are in low, urgent discussion as you approach. Alaric raises a hand, the talk falls silent, and he turns his full attention to you.

You’ve returned. I’ve received word that the preparations are complete. The time has come. I will not soften this for you: a corrupted Forest King is something the world was never meant to see.

Dialogue — General

Alaric: Alaric crosses his arms, and his voice is steady.

Hm? You want to know about Earlwood? It’s a small village, a place for the cast-off and the brave, the kind who hold their ground when it counts. Alaric: My mind is occupied. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I won’t waste time speaking about myself. Alaric: Alaric studies you for a moment, then reaches into his satchel.

You’ve earned some measure of trust. Take these potions to aid your travels. Alaric: I’m no cook, but any hunter worth the name knows Hunter’s Stew.

Critter meat, droop gelo, and beast meat, cooked over a wood fire stove. It will keep you standing.

If you’re pressed for time, raw meat will keep you alive. Unpleasant, but it serves. Alaric: Alaric sets aside a map, his gaze lingering toward the Guild Hall’s main door.

Eldorian may strike some as excitable, but he’s more capable than most give him credit for. He’ll grow into something solid. Alaric: Support means little without struggle. He’s earning both.

Alaric dusts a faint trail of pollen from his forearm, gaze steady on yours.

Time sorts the earnest from the fools. Eldorian’s still learning which he’ll be. Alaric: He doesn’t yet know what he is. But I’ve seen the shape of it.

Alaric dusts a faint trail of pollen from his forearm, gaze steady on yours.

Time sorts the earnest from the fools. Eldorian’s still learning which he’ll be. Alaric: If you’re quick to judge, be quicker to match his courage. Until then, quiet.

Alaric dusts a faint trail of pollen from his forearm, gaze steady on yours.

Time sorts the earnest from the fools. Eldorian’s still learning which he’ll be. Alaric: He’s got the will to become. The shape of who he is will follow. Alaric: Then you’re already worth more than most who pass through here.

Alaric nods once, slow and certain. Alaric: A forge needs fire. We’ll see what heat he can take.

Alaric nods once, slow and certain. Alaric: I trust in growth. Doubt only slows it.

Alaric nods once, slow and certain. Alaric: Not once. Not where it’s counted. Alaric: Alaric glances toward the packed doorway of the Guild Hall.

Forest creatures turned hostile and bridges broke; farmers and travellers crowd here for safety. The mayor’s lockdown bars the boats, so it falls to us to do what we can. Alaric: Then speak to those who need tending. Listen first, act second.

Alaric tightens a leather bracer, voice level.

The work doesn’t wait. Alaric: Refuge for now. But rot spreads fast if we only wait.

Alaric tightens a leather bracer, voice level.

The work doesn’t wait. Alaric: If you’ve strength to speak, you’ve strength to serve.

Alaric tightens a leather bracer, voice level.

The work doesn’t wait. Alaric: Treants. It was their first act of war. We still have men out there, stranded across the bridge. Alaric: You have your mission. Seek out the source of the forest’s madness.

Alaric nods once, already turning back to his tasks. Alaric: That’s enough, if you mean it.

Alaric nods once, already turning back to his tasks. Alaric: Then step aside. I’ve no time to waste on the idle.

Alaric nods once, already turning back to his tasks. Alaric: Beware the treants and dryads. They’re not like wolves or goblins. You’ll need your wits. Alaric: So I’ve heard. Thank you for aiding him. Heimen is loud, stubborn, and one of the few I’d trust to walk that forest alone. Alaric: He’s more than he lets on. The kind who carries history like a blade.

Alaric brushes a fragment of leaf from the map before him.

You’ve done more than you know, helping him. The Guild doesn’t forget that. Alaric: He’s been chasing the Elven tongue longer than some bards have lived.

Alaric brushes a fragment of leaf from the map before him.

You’ve done more than you know, helping him. The Guild doesn’t forget that. Alaric: You followed him, didn’t you? Then you saw what he sees. That matters.

Alaric brushes a fragment of leaf from the map before him.

You’ve done more than you know, helping him. The Guild doesn’t forget that. Alaric: He’s a friend to the Guild. A dwarven bard, and a great one. Alaric: If he needs you, he will seek you out.

Alaric folds the map with care, then turns back to his notes. Alaric: He turns up where song and danger meet. That’s often enough.

Alaric folds the map with care, then turns back to his notes. Alaric: Then you’ve learned nothing from him, or from me.

Alaric folds the map with care, then turns back to his notes. Alaric: He’s walked through fire beside us. Always returns, no matter how far he strays. Earlwood knows the worth of that. Alaric: Alaric’s stern eyes turn toward you, discerning the intent behind the question.

Corin has iron in him. Not the sort men boast about, either. The sort that keeps a gate shut, a wounded scout breathing, and a patrol from breaking when the woods turn against them.

He is a hard man, but a worthy one. One of my best captains. It is my honor to fight beside him. Alaric: He is strong. Every true test has taken something from him, and every time, he has stood again.

Corin came to us as a child. Goblin raids had taken his parents, and one of our parties found him while ranging north into Aldoria. They brought him here with little more than breath, fear, and a will that refused to go out.

The Guild raised him, seldom gently, always truly. He is our brother and our son. And his own man besides. Alaric: Alaric’s eyes close, and a light chuckle gets the better of his stern demeanor.

Hm. A fair complaint, from the outside.

Corin came to us as a child. Goblin raids had taken his parents, and one of our parties found him while ranging north into Aldoria. They brought him here with little more than breath, fear, and a will that refused to go out.

The Guild raised him, seldom gently, always truly. He is our brother and our son. And his own man besides. Alaric: Alaric does not flinch at your blunt approach.

Hm. Saqi once told me the same. She was laughing when she said it.

Corin’s path is his own now, as it is for every man. There is a hard shadow behind him. Not evil. Not weakness. A wound that learned to carry a blade.

He must command it, or it will command him. If you mean to call him friend, then help him keep his hand on that rein. Alaric: We gave him shelter, training, standards. What he made from them was his own doing.

Corin’s path is his own now, as it is for every man. There is a hard shadow behind him. Not evil. Not weakness. A wound that learned to carry a blade.

He must command it, or it will command him. If you mean to call him friend, then help him keep his hand on that rein. Alaric: Luck may have spared his life. It did not carry him through the years after.

Corin’s path is his own now, as it is for every man. There is a hard shadow behind him. Not evil. Not weakness. A wound that learned to carry a blade.

He must command it, or it will command him. If you mean to call him friend, then help him keep his hand on that rein. Alaric: Alaric gives a silent nod of approval and thanks. Alaric: Alaric gives a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Then we can consider this matter done. Alaric: Saqi. I have known her since she was small enough to hide behind her father’s leg and loud enough to be heard from the road.

Do not mistake her work for softness. She is one of the strongest people in Earlwood; her steel is endurance. When fear spreads, she is there. When tempers rise, she is there. When people have nowhere else to carry their grief, she makes room for it. Alaric: Yes. And she does it as she has always done it: without waiting for permission or praise.

Saqi is the village’s tavern keeper, yes. But that title is too small for the work she does.

She holds people together. In calm days, that means laughter, food, songs, arguments ended before they sour. In days like these, it means refugees fed and frightened folk steadied. It means the Guild reminded what it is protecting.

She does it without office or command. The village knows her as its heart because she earned that place. Alaric: That says more of your eye than her work.

Saqi is the village’s tavern keeper, yes. But that title is too small for the work she does.

She holds people together. In calm days, that means laughter, food, songs, arguments ended before they sour. In days like these, it means refugees fed and frightened folk steadied. It means the Guild reminded what it is protecting.

She does it without office or command. The village knows her as its heart because she earned that place. Alaric: Alaric notices the intention behind your words.

To those I choose, I give the full weight of my strength.

Those who have just met Saqi may only hear the volume. They miss the judgment behind it.

She speaks plainly because soft words are not always kind. She challenges people because some need challenging. And when the village needs something done, she does not wait for permission from people who would only slow the work.

I respect that. More than that, I count it a rare thing in a friend. Alaric: Alaric quietly chuckles at your words.

That is certainly one way to name it.

Those who have just met Saqi may only hear the volume. They miss the judgment behind it.

She speaks plainly because soft words are not always kind. She challenges people because some need challenging. And when the village needs something done, she does not wait for permission from people who would only slow the work.

I respect that. More than that, I count it a rare thing in a friend. Alaric: Only to those who have not yet learned what she is guarding.

Those who have just met Saqi may only hear the volume. They miss the judgment behind it.

She speaks plainly because soft words are not always kind. She challenges people because some need challenging. And when the village needs something done, she does not wait for permission from people who would only slow the work.

I respect that. More than that, I count it a rare thing in a friend. Alaric: Yes. Hers is the sort that keeps a tavern warm through a crisis. No song will mention it, and she would not care. Alaric: Then you are measuring distance by the wrong road.

Dialogue — MQ2

Alaric: Hm, the old mage still moves pieces, then. Curious.

He pauses for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

The road to Faustas’s tower is cut off. The bridge is broken, and the forest has turned against the village. It is not safe. Alaric: You don’t have to explain, but I need to be clear with you.

The road to Faustas’s tower is cut off. The bridge is broken, and the forest has turned against the village. It is not safe. Alaric: Destroyed. Whoever did it kept the trail muddy: goblins, or something that hunts without banners.

You’re free to confirm it. I won’t recommend it.

In due time, we’ll set it right. For now, it’s a trap with no reward. Alaric: The forest has turned against us. Wolves. Dryads. Treants. Everything that used to warn now strikes.

And the goblins are back in numbers. They’re raiding and slaughtering across the farmlands and the woods. They consume whatever they touch.

Anyone living outside the village has fallen back behind the walls.

One of my scouts hasn’t checked in. He’s careless with time, so I’m not panicking. But I want him accounted for. If you head to the farmlands or into the forest and you cross his trail, send him back to the Guild. I’ll take that as a courtesy. Alaric: His name is Eldorian, he is an Elf, one of my best men. That is all you need to know, for now. Alaric: That’s all I’m asking.

His route stays in the safer stretch of the farmlands. If you’ve got a map, I’ll mark it, but don’t mistake ‘safer’ for safe. Some patches will bite.

If you don’t find him there, the forest is the last resort. Stick to the main road. Don’t go in unless you have to, and don’t stray. The woods aren’t for the ill-prepared anymore.

Thank you, traveller. Take this spare spellbook. It may keep you alive.

I’m Alaric. Good to meet you. Alaric: His face stays set, but his eyes sharpen. Concern slips through for a breath.

Tension with the forest has been rising for years. After the last goblin crisis, we needed timber. We raised walls. That meant cutting deeper.

Some villagers went too far, some of them under the mayor’s orders. Treant-wood isn’t common lumber. It’s dangerous. It’s… touched.

But an insult does not explain what’s happening now. This is madness. Something darker is driving the forest. Alaric: You don’t know? Sylbos’s corruption is a blight; it twists magic itself, bending the will of whatever it touches.

It is a weapon of the dark gods, the work of the Iniquities. Sylbos wields it as his strongest tool. Alaric: Tamsin is just behind me. You may have already met her.

She’s our Banner Weaver, and she runs the Guild Shop. An energetic young girl. Alaric: Rahaner is usually in the lounge unless he is out training the recruits.

He’s a Guild Mentor and coordinates our defenses. Alaric: You’ll find Befr near his cart just outside. Smiling and laughing, he’s hard to miss. Alaric: My thanks. I’ll be here when you return. Alaric: Hm? You may learn a new ability from it, if you have the right attributes. Spellbooks are used across all Mirkea. Trade with Tamsin or Rahaner if you require more. Alaric: Tamsin is just behind me. You may have already met her.

She’s our Banner Weaver, and she runs the Guild Shop. An energetic young girl. Alaric: Rahaner is usually in the lounge unless he is out training the recruits.

He’s a Guild Mentor and coordinates our defenses. Alaric: You’ll find Befr near his cart just outside. Smiling and laughing, he’s hard to miss.

Dialogue — MQ6

Alaric: The Wildwood is home to ancient spirits: Dryads, Treants, and others. Many came from the Eternal Forest long ago. They were once peaceful, but the corruption has twisted them. Their minds are gone, and their mercy is lost. If you face them, you’ll need to be ready to strike. Alaric: Take these potions. A small measure of aid, but it may be enough.

Use them wisely. Alaric: Alaric nods with quiet approval, lowering his head slightly.

Good luck, Traveller. Return standing. Alaric: Alaric’s tone remains firm, but concern creeps beneath his words.

Hm, grave news. If the forest has yielded to the corruption, then it has truly reached Earlwood. The spread is no longer contained; it’s across Mirkea now.

We must find the source within the Wildwood. If we don’t, the village will not survive. Alaric: It was a Treant once. The corruption had fully claimed it. That only happens when the creature surrenders its will to the dark Gods, the Iniquities. The corruption doesn’t force; it tempts. It offers power, and some accept. Most forest creatures haven’t given in, not fully. They’re maddened, yes, but still themselves. This one wasn’t.

The form follows will. Alaric: See to the village, and rest while you can. The way forward is blocked until the bridge is rebuilt. We’ll move when the path is clear. Alaric: Alaric’s eyes again peer toward the map, deep in thought.

The source must be found; nothing else will stop this. We go to the heart of the Wildwood. But the way forward is blocked. The bridge is broken, and until it is rebuilt, we cannot press further.

Many weeks past, I sent an attack force led by my best captain, Corin, deep into the forest in search of the source. Before they could report back, the bridge was destroyed, and they remain stranded. Now is the time: with the southern forest stabilised, we can turn our attention to the bridge and rebuild it. Alaric: As I said, the bridge must be rebuilt, and you will be a vital part.

Alaric points toward Haylor’s Mill on the map.

We will need to acquire a strong foundation for the bridge, a fallen mill beam from Haylor’s Mill. I must ask you to aid us in this. The area is hostile, filled with Goblins. Secure the ground around the beam and clear them out, so our scouts can retrieve it and deliver it to the bridge. After that, we will need additional materials. Bring your part to the bridge. Alaric: Hm, your doubt is noted, but without grounds. With the space secure, rebuilding the bridge will be no difficult task for us.

Alaric points toward Haylor’s Mill on the map.

We will need to acquire a strong foundation for the bridge, a fallen mill beam from Haylor’s Mill. I must ask you to aid us in this. The area is hostile, filled with Goblins. Secure the ground around the beam and clear them out, so our scouts can retrieve it and deliver it to the bridge. After that, we will need additional materials. Bring your part to the bridge. Alaric: Corin is one of my most trusted friends and captains. I’ve known him since he was a child. I fear not for his well-being; no mere Goblin or beast could harm him. But I would see him return. Alaric: The treants. Not long after our attack force passed, they destroyed it. We are not sure if their intent was to isolate the force. It is rare to see them act in such a strategic manner. Alaric: Goblins, a lot of them. You will need to fight through them to reach the mill, and fight harder to secure it.

Alaric rises from the map, his posture straight, his gaze stern.

The path is clear: secure the beam, gather the material, rebuild the bridge, and find Corin. Alaric: It is, and yet, you will succeed. I’m sure of it.

Alaric rises from the map, his posture straight, his gaze stern.

The path is clear: secure the beam, gather the material, rebuild the bridge, and find Corin. Alaric: Haylor’s Mill is the estate of the Haylor family, one of Earlwood Village’s most prominent, and one of its largest sources of agriculture. When the Goblins invaded, it was among the first places to fall, and they took a particular liking to the area. Alaric: Strong wood and stone. You will need to retrieve heartwood oak from the forest. Excess stone can be found easily. Alaric: Thank you again, traveller. Let your will be your guide. Alaric: Risks are often necessary. I cannot force your hand. I can only tell you the Guild’s hope rides with you.

Dialogue — MQ7

Alaric: Good. I chose the right captain for that task.

A faint tension leaves Alaric’s jaw as his eyes settle on you.

When you walked in alone, I feared the worst. But if Corin still stands, he didn’t send you back on a whim. He wants something from us, doesn’t he? Alaric: They held when it counted. We’ll honor that, and make sure their effort was not wasted.

A faint tension leaves Alaric’s jaw as his eyes settle on you.

When you walked in alone, I feared the worst. But if Corin still stands, he didn’t send you back on a whim. He wants something from us, doesn’t he? Alaric: Then his head is clear. He holds his ground and calls for what he needs. We’ll see him supplied.

Alaric nods toward Saqi, who is already sorting bundles for travel.

Take what Saqi can spare and get it to Corin’s line. If the corruption’s close, it’ll be twisting the ground under his boots. Did he say he’d found the source? Alaric: You call that arrogance. I call it a man holding the line and asking for support instead of dying proud and empty. Learn the difference.

Alaric nods toward Saqi, who is already sorting bundles for travel.

Take what Saqi can spare and get it to Corin’s line. If the corruption’s close, it’ll be twisting the ground under his boots. Did he say he’d found the source? Alaric: Good. He’s wise enough to halt when the land itself turns against him.

Alaric’s gaze takes a grim turn, as if remembering a past of dread.

If he’s that close to the source and the goblins are pressing him, then he’ll be hunting their base, and their king. He’s right. We don’t move on the corruption while a horde sits at our backs. Alaric: ‘Claims’, does he? A man that deep in doesn’t spook at shadows. If the goblins trouble him, they’re worth your full attention.

Alaric’s gaze takes a grim turn, as if remembering a past of dread.

If he’s that close to the source and the goblins are pressing him, then he’ll be hunting their base, and their king. He’s right. We don’t move on the corruption while a horde sits at our backs. Alaric: Good. Stand with him, break the horde, and the path to the source opens. See it done, Traveller. Alaric: Caution is fine, as long as it doesn’t slow your hand. Test his word if you must, but if his reports hold, stand with him when the killing starts. Good luck, Traveller. Alaric: Yes, it’s true. The tale can wait; the horde will not. Ask me again when their king is dead. Alaric: Spawns of Akolasis, beings of pure Indulgence. They exist to consume. Anything and everything: food, objects, even each other. If they see you weak and unable to fight back, they will consume you without thought. That’s why they laugh. The thought never leaves them, and it brings them a gleeful joy. As they consume, they grow and change. A king… expect something monstrous.

Dialogue — MQ9

Alaric: To hear it spoken aloud brings a second wave of relief.

Alaric studies the map in silence for a moment, then traces a line through the trees with one finger.

The goblins are broken into scattered packs now; the storm they carried has spent itself for a time. That gives us one chance to go to the root instead of hacking at branches. Corin has found an entrance, the old forest path that winds toward the elder tree. Every sign we have points there, and of all the places corruption might take hold, it is among the worst. Alaric: I do not doubt the cost. But as you say, the work is done, and you stand where the King does not.

Alaric studies the map in silence for a moment, then traces a line through the trees with one finger.

The goblins are broken into scattered packs now; the storm they carried has spent itself for a time. That gives us one chance to go to the root instead of hacking at branches. Corin has found an entrance, the old forest path that winds toward the elder tree. Every sign we have points there, and of all the places corruption might take hold, it is among the worst. Alaric: Because that path leads toward the heart of the forest’s authority. To strike along it is to walk into what should be the safest, most sacred ground under Ceres’ gaze, and to find it turned against us.

As he speaks, Alaric’s gaze lowers and his eyes close, as if calling old memories to the surface.

The forest path leads to the heart of the Wildwood, what the old tales call the Forest Throne. To the young it is little more than a story now, but it is real enough. The Throne is the seat of the Forest King of this region. Such Kings are said to be direct children of Ceres herself. I have seen this one only once in my life, and only for a moment, a rare grace for any mortal. If a being of that stature has fallen to corruption, then we stand at the edge of something far worse than goblin raids. Alaric: Courage has its place, and I do not doubt yours. But where a thing takes root shapes what follows when we cut it down. We must be clear-eyed about the price, even as we raise the blade.

As he speaks, Alaric’s gaze lowers and his eyes close, as if calling old memories to the surface.

The forest path leads to the heart of the Wildwood, what the old tales call the Forest Throne. To the young it is little more than a story now, but it is real enough. The Throne is the seat of the Forest King of this region. Such Kings are said to be direct children of Ceres herself. I have seen this one only once in my life, and only for a moment, a rare grace for any mortal. If a being of that stature has fallen to corruption, then we stand at the edge of something far worse than goblin raids. Alaric: Because a king is not a spell to be dispelled. Killing it severs the will that forged the horde, but the bodies remain. Now they are what goblins have always been at their worst, scavengers and gluttons, snapping and consuming without aim. It will take time and hard work to drive them back out of the Wildwood. Alaric: I wish it were as simple as calling the corruption away. But with spirits of that order, there is only one mercy: we must strike them down, and let them regenerate over long years free of the stain.

Alaric straightens, his attention returning to the map and the lines of advance.

And so, we move forward. The forest path is sealed by corrupted vines; as it stands, no mortal force can break through. To open it, we will need a ritual. To complete that ritual, we must gather the reagents and secure the way. There are three tasks before us. Tamsin will require rare components for the rite. Eldorian is already in the field, holding the gate against whatever gathers there. And Corin is working to carve a clear path for our people. Each of them could use your aid, if you are inclined. Alaric: No god. A higher spirit, a sovereign of this forest. We will not end him, only break the hold of corruption. In time he will return, and when he does, this land will either be cleansed… or beyond even his power to mend.

Alaric straightens, his attention returning to the map and the lines of advance.

And so, we move forward. The forest path is sealed by corrupted vines; as it stands, no mortal force can break through. To open it, we will need a ritual. To complete that ritual, we must gather the reagents and secure the way. There are three tasks before us. Tamsin will require rare components for the rite. Eldorian is already in the field, holding the gate against whatever gathers there. And Corin is working to carve a clear path for our people. Each of them could use your aid, if you are inclined. Alaric: The old teachings say the eternal forest is Ceres’ true domain, the home of elves, spirits, and all that grows wild. Each region is much like a mortal kingdom: layered in its own hierarchy, with a Forest King set as arbiter of Ceres’ law. He governs the creatures beneath him and the forest’s tolerance for our hunting and logging, for our presence at all. Some claim our own kingdoms only dimly echo that older, sterner order. Alaric: Not long after I felled the last Goblin King, fifty years ago. I hunted alone in these woods when the Green Knight came to me once more and spoke a name: Aelwynor, the Wildroot Father. The air parted behind him and the Forest King appeared, vast and still. He spoke into my thoughts, gratitude for what we had done and a pledge of alliance between our kind and his. Hm. And yet, here we stand again, with that same covenant under strain. Alaric: Good. Tamsin first, if you take my counsel. The rite is the one piece we cannot rush. Alaric: Once the Forest King is freed and the corruption broken, the way will open. Your road will carry you beyond us, and it will be your choice whether to return. Alaric: It is no small thing to strike down a Forest King. The Wildwood will be unsettled for a century while he regenerates, pulled between lesser wills. But when he rises again, the forest will return to its old grace, if we have done our part and cleansed this corruption from his domain. Alaric: It is an old-gods rite, a plea offered directly to Ceres. Usually such rituals appeal to a Forest King, asking him to act in her name. Now the King himself is bound, so we must reach past him and call to the Goddess herself, asking her to open the way. Alaric: Something less than a god, yet greater than anything your eyes have faced. A being of pure authority turned against its purpose.

Alaric’s features harden, though his voice remains measured, as if he is choosing each word with care.

He is the hinge on which this whole corruption turns. Only a will as vast as a Forest King’s could drag so much of the Wildwood down with it. I do not yet know by what failure Ceres’ rule faltered here, nor what desire in him opened the door. But questions will not save a single life today. We go forward with clear purpose, no self-reproach, no hesitation. Alaric: That will not be the result, and that is not our way. I have often disagreed with your approach… yet you are necessary.

Alaric’s features harden, though his voice remains measured, as if he is choosing each word with care.

He is the hinge on which this whole corruption turns. Only a will as vast as a Forest King’s could drag so much of the Wildwood down with it. I do not yet know by what failure Ceres’ rule faltered here, nor what desire in him opened the door. But questions will not save a single life today. We go forward with clear purpose, no self-reproach, no hesitation. Alaric: Good. Hold to that. When the world around you breaks, your will and your aim must not. Alaric: You see only the next target. That is both your strength and your flaw. You have the will to strike; one day you may learn when not to. Alaric: Ceres is the law beneath this forest, its growth, its fury, its rest. Her Kings are her hands. For one of those hands to be turned against her work means her hold here has slipped. Do not take it to mean she wished it so. Even the gods can be opposed where their will is thinnest, and that troubles me. Alaric: Corruption erases nothing. It courts the will. It amplifies fear and anger and ambition, and gives them form and promise. A Forest King does not simply ‘succumb’. He hears that promise, weighs it against his oath to Ceres, and then turns. That turning is the choice. Without it, even the dark gods could not claim him.

About this data

Dialogue scripts use the game’s official English text. Data compiled from official in-game sources. Names, descriptions and effects use the game’s own English text. Stats reflect the current game version and may change with updates.