Zenalta Dialogue INCOMPLETE. NEED MISC.

MAKE SURE TO HAVE AUDIO RECORDINGS SET FOR MONO, NOT STEREO
SPLIT EACH INDIVIDUAL LINE INTO ITS OWN FILE
KEEP QUALITY CLEAN AND CLEAR THROUGHOUT
HAVE THE AUDIO BE AS LOUD AS YOU CAN MAKE IT WITHOUT AUDIBLE CLICKING OR NOISE

COMMENTS IN BRACKETS {} ARE SPOKEN/DONE BY THE PLAYER
COMMENTS IN BRACKETS [] IS WHAT THE PLAYER IS DOING OR WHERE THEY ARE

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- Witch engaged with dark magic
- Speaks slowly, almost rhythmic in her words
- Acts like she's in a trance
- 25-35 years old

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{You're helping Denize with the child right? What exactly do you need?}

Deathbell to soothe the pulse, nirnroot to sear the soul and ectoplasm to deprive that poor child of the flesh and have it be ethereal.

With these the seed can be carried from its mothers soil, without too much anguish for either.

{Why don't you have these ingredients yourself?}

To have the world for harvest would solve so much - yet drawing upon this arcane tapestry cannot make these miracles a reality.

You have offered yourself in her aid, have you not? Well this quest should sate the ailing woman's mind. Go yonder and fulfill her desire.

{I've brought you the ingredients.}

And so the soon to be will never be, this child will be yanked from the mothers bosom - better today than to leave it destitute and unloved tomorrow. Poor soul, to not even have the love of your mother.

Nature does weave the saddest tales doesn't it? Enough time has been wasted in idle thought, now comes the time for the visceral result of our dilemma.



[Scene where witch performs ritual to abort unborn child]

Just lay there and wait for me to prepare.

Surrender yourself denize, lay upon the cot and wish for release. The torments that haunt you will cease to be.

And may the souls be parted!

{What spells do you perform?}

Spells? The pretense of wonder drawn by parodies dressed in well made cloth - I divulge in the dance that melds one world to another.

Through these dances, our bodies has flesh transposed with magics summoned from a raging stream of arcane noise. Spilling forth from every orifice and every end of the form.

You manifest desire and become a beacon of dreams, not only of your own but those of a thousands shrieking souls seeking your body as an outlet.

{Speak clearly}

Pragmatic are the civilized.... If you want a change in destiny, bring me flesh - that would serve some utility to those who just want results yes? The skin of those you wish to mimic and i'll graft it onto your shape, a new identity will be birthed.

{You can change who I am physically?}

Only the flesh, the mind is not of the same clay - so may find itself anchored to the past, despite best intentions.

Though the body can open rooms of the mind where they were once locked; pleasure and pain being the first doors to loosen. Alleviating or exaggerating the carnal.

But your deeper self? How you move and how you react, your trauma and your pleasures from the past. These will stay.



{Has anyone changed their body with you?}

I find humor in the desperation of the civilized to escape their fates, one would think such a privileged lifestyle should beg docility; Content with your luxuries. Yet the deluge of souls who come for my services attest to a different world.

One such recent arrival was a demon of translucent red, smacked of all the despairs of your society. His every fiber rebelled against the rigid hierarchy of your world and sought escape.

Throwing vestiges of most regal flesh to my feet, I went to work. Sowing and tearing where I needed - this man willed himself into a prince, and I had helped him on his path.

Now the winds grow fierce and the storm clouds gather, munstor will taste vengeance in its waning.

{Were you part of the witchmen?}

An age has passed since my time with those naive dreamers - letting the wind carry them along with nary a care. Such was there downfall.

When our cousins, donned in red and black, had fallen from the mountains and cleaved their way through our peoples - shedding oceans of blood in their wake.

Today not much is left of the old ways, save the scant few tribes who still carry their practices with them - if they are to exist now at all. Who's to say they haven't been subsumed into civilization or slaughtered by our brothers.

Now the meat of our peoples have wrought an eight legged auger, that's molding them into the self-eating man-demons that plague the land.

{You were at munstor?}

I had made consort with the feathered-women of yore, engaging in song - synchronized, to soothe the land. Birthing a fecund eden out of a frozen waste.

All the best efforts were laid to waste by men from stone walls, civilization had come to bring us to heel. The hegemony that seeks to oust all competitors.

{So why didn't you join these new witchmen?}

They have honed their methods in combating your kind, I have honed my own. Where they are bold and terrifying, I find the opposite to be more alluring - serving a more palatable meal.

Subversion; through hope, love and desire - can render the wealthiest a beggar, all through their own doing.



{Why are you helping denize?}

I desire to be a mother; animus that has willed me into helping this woman supplant her progeny unto me, so that I may be imputed with dynasty.

Maybe you have not seen, but you're in a tale of mothers. Mothers are weaving stories in every stride you take, who knows what they have laying down your strand.

And with my own child, I will have another destiny to write from my own - a fate that will leave red the world in its spill.

{I found out that your recipe is for poison, your games are at an end}

This river has no branches, destinies are now running their course and usurpers like you cannot dare to change them!

[NPC says hello]
Transient traveler.
Welcome, young lamb.
Your mind burns with curiosity.
Speak softly.

[NPC says goodbye]
Departed.
The nomad calls again.
Away to distant lands?

[NPC pushed]
Flesh on flesh, do you wish to feel warm?

[NPC IDLE]
A false reality just beyond the eye, cloaking the world's motions. We will ever see it truly?
How can few shepherd many; a blanket of illusion keeps the lambs warm at night.
History vomits upon the present, it never ceases. The past is the great slaver of us all.
Life is simple, life is just. Shrink back to your hole, child. Such godly matters aren't for you.
Want, desire, dream. Ambition unfurled. We are all pulled towards our ideal.


[NPC SEES ALLY DIE]
Another soul returned to the earth.

[NPC TAUNTS ENEMY/PLAYER]
Kneel to destiny!

Your path reaches its end.

Your kingdom will come undone.

[NPC DYING WORDS]
We will have our future...
The unending silence...

[NPC ON KNEES, BLEEDING OUT]

Suffer not this tragedy...


[NPC BEING ATTACKED] (pain)
The flesh is weak.
Futile!
Augh!
The screams!

[NPC ATTACKING PLAYER/ENEMY]
Maiden of fate!
I bring you ruin.
Submit to me!
Slave of hierarchy!
You are cattle!
Unthinking pawn!

[NPC REACTS TO PLAYER COMING OUT OF HIDE]
A secret revealed!

[NPC SEARCHES FOR PLAYER]
A time comes where there will be no shadow to hide in.
Every shadow is her home.


[NPC ENGAGES IN COMBAT WITH PLAYER]
Come, for our nocturnal dance.



[PLANS FOR EXTRA DIALOGUE]

{Have witch talk about spells she performs, leading you to discover that she can change people's form if they're willing to sacrifice + bring body of victim they want to change to. Have her talk about previous people who brought her bodies, like half breed and predothor.}

{Witche's backstory; should be about munstor and how the witchmen split apart. That she saw namira's influence take root and fester among witchmen. She stayed true to old ways. Hint that maybe namira did affect her with some black humor}

{Why the witch is helping denize, how the witch obliges by those she feels pity for. All a ruse of course, should be obvious so player can intervene.}

{Player should have option to talk to witch when player discovers poison recipe for denize, witch becomes violent}