Create a new version of paste:

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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[Mara escorts you through a maze of darkness]

Under my wing, child. You have entered the darkest durance at the end of the world - the dominion of tragedy. Do not leave my light or you will be swallowed by the black.

The history of hate, in your land, traces its roots here - where the seed planted by that begotten king had fomented and grown; the branches tearing through the earth and perverting all life above. 

Witchmen, those misguided souls stolen from my grace, were molded in the shape of this foul king's form. I did not reach them in time, and in turn another Mother had took my place.

Where I had hoped to impart a will to live in them, that mother had brought an antithesis. Preying on their fears and animosity and exaggerating these insecurities to heights unforeseen. 

And so the same tragedy that played the Witchmen finds itself repeating with you, and those behind their walls. A schism forms between those found wanting and those who are rich. Material, beauty and status - all tenants to the divide.

Extremes are tempting in dire times, when the status quo has proven to have failed - yet it is often with these extremes that irrevocable damage occurs.

Pull the disenfranchised out of the muddy waters, mediate and save whatever you can. I am weak child, but you are strong. You have one thing that I lack. 

True empathy - that a god lacking the same fragility of mortals cannot grasp. 

Those on the mortal plane who are swallowed by obsession, by trauma or rage - will find themselves a world which mimics that terrible, bloodied land you traversed, and are soon to again. 

To have hope dim and hate simmer in these times is understandable, expected - to be pessimistic when you look at history as a series of tragedies. However, you run the risk of looking through that wretched lens of despair until your passing.

Every moment of good is then ignored, every small triumph and miracle is trivialized against some other atrocity. You avoid every opportunity, trepid to every chance, fearful of the risks - and so you stay clinging to what you know. 

This may not apply to you, child. As you still march on with a yearning to halt a disaster, rather than letting rampage run its course, as the cynic inside us would do without hesitation. 

I am burdened with the curse of prescience, prescience of tragedy, and I weep. You will talk with a soul who was beholden to ultimate misfortune, I was too late to help him. 

Feel sympathy for his plight, but don't let his spoiled tongue coerce you to committing evil. I just wish I could have saved him, if only I was stronger - tell him I am sorry. Though I'm afraid any apologies are too late. 

Keep faith and become that indomitable effigy of hope that I know you are. 

{Mara?! You're putting yourself in extreme danger by being here.}

Fear not for my welfare child, I've come to provide succor for you - you, who have traversed the quagmire of want. This pocket is collapsing, thus benign entities are allowed passage, for a moment.

This interstice rapidly approaches its end however, and with it the return of dread. We will have to depart soon my child.

{Mara, why is all of this happening? Were the Reach to be punished so?}

Child, I wept with every orifice of this ethereal being, every effort to thwart the systems of men and insidious circumstance had fallen short. We tried, and will keep trying to stem the tide of horror. 

But the hearts of mortal agents are locked in struggle, their souls tandem with fragility. Swathes of individuals seeking to covet their being had given rise to the terrific scenario you've seen. 

Such chaos has led to extremities in every strand of thought, where the sadist and butcher thrive in dire times. We need to go back and salvage what little hope there is, lest that dark mother has her feast.

{Why can't you stop all this suffering Mara?}

Through my every effort do I try to halt the dark march of evil - and I ask myself that very question with each failure. 

When my intentions are distilled by design, I must ascribe my ineptitude to another source than malice; weakness. 

Faced against impossible darkness and a madness that drifts of into eternity, I have to act conspicuously, not alerting the attention of greater, darker gods.

Against this eternal black that drifts into infinity, I must act below the gaze of its dark agents - lest I find myself ensnared within their hideous plots.

And if those plots ultimately lead to my demise, I fear hope, and love, would vanish from your realm for good. 


{Mara, don't you think it's a problem that you heal everyone?}

Sorry child, I fail to understand what you take umbrage with, is it not the greatest virtue to forgive?

{Those you heal have gone on to commit atrocities and evil because of your help}

That's not my intention and my hear bleeds like a raging river when my love is betrayed, yet I can't stop. That is my nature, I cannot reach beyond my design.

....I've had my intentions betrayed, with my heart bleeding like a river in a storm - yet I can't stop my helping. It is my nature, I am locked within my design. 

But you can mortal, you have the ability to see others horizontally, I can only see from afar and above. My vision is distorted and I cannot see paths as you do. 


You are special where we gods are not, you can change your character - your fate is mutable with enough force of will.

And you must use that will to avert the horror that comes. 


--

You are a paragon of altruism that has kept my flame alight, you have coveted nascent souls seeking shelter. 

Where gratitude is found lacking in the mortal web of relations, I hope that a god's thanks will suffice. 

Keep the flame bright, never be swallowed by the dark.

{I try my best Mara}

I know, and in most cases that is seldom praised - yet here we are beholden to extraordinary circumstance, so accept a gift more tangible than platitudes.

{What's happening in the kingdom now?}

The haunted hour has come, those who find themselves on opposing paths, soon to reach the crossroad - have begun to expose their claws. Now they prepare to descend on one another in a maddening carnage. 


Dreaded mother of this spoiled realm watches this foul spectacle, feasting upon the misery and using the vile nutrients for her child. 

The mother finally shows teeth, fangs ready to rip apart the flesh of your world.


She still seeks to reclaim that tower, and to supplant your normal with her own. A dark dominion of evil that will see all benevolent agents banished, never to return. A world without salvation. 

Go child, the pain has already started, let it not reach its sum. 

{What will you do?}

Act as a beacon for you to follow, I will make your venture a most blessed one so that her tendrils don't halt your attempt to pacify this madness.


[NPC SAYS HELLO]

Bless you, child.

Accept my warmth.

Hurry child, the dark approaches.

[NPC says goodbye]

We will talk again.

Keep the flame bright.

Hope for a new dawn.


[PLANS FOR EXTRA DIALOGUE]

{Have mara talk about her fragility compared to other gods, how she has to operate without gaining their attention (daedric gods).}

{Discussion with Mara about how she indirectly helps evil through her excessive altruism, lending her healing powers to "bad" people. She is too trusting/forgiving of people, which leads to her sadness.}

{Mara should thank you for good deeds, how you saved children from sigmayne in Evermore.}

{What's happening in the Reach before you go back there for last quest, why she couldn't stop it (weakness and naivety).}