Ayleid King #2 INCOMPLETE

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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Ayleid King:
Sadistic
Cynical, every word spoken is capable of depressing you
Weird fetish for death, like Cenobites from Hellraiser
Arrogant, wants world to notice his perverted art and plans.
Found at Main Quest 9 in person, exposition tells you of plan to replace adamantine tower with dark, surrogate tower
Was defeated thousands of years before by Allessia’s rebel army, soul went to Namira.

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[Scene where player confronts king in his lair]

So the married messengers assail us, neither despair nor decay could halt the march of destiny. Will the story of your flesh end in tragedy or triumph?

{Who are you?}

The corporeal was the king, reigned over flesh and mud all the same. In those mortal years my aid was sought after from Mer in the west.

Brothers bound by the vessel, as if there's anything else to relate to another. The way the EYE sees your visage is all that matters.

Brothers of same flesh, same wants - we congealed for the race. Superficial, yet penetrating so deeply.

Mortals are so bound by what their eyes perceive, fornication and murder from what their eye loves or hates. And you see the ugly, and you must kill.

Mortals are locked behind the eyes, forever beholden by the spectacle provided. Carnality flows down from these organs - libido, hunger, dominance.

I hope the patchwork below has given insight; Art etched into the very edifice of this red land. Convention betrayed, desecrated woman before the virtuous man, the civilized devoured by the subaltern.

Did you see my art? A betrayal of mortal principle, desecrated women  before the sight of virile men. The hideous Orc dominating the haughty elf.

The impoverished erasing the rich, consuming the bodies of the mighty. All things that nature detests, no order, no purpose, thus misery.

Want eating want - a tale you've come to know, cattle as you are. Here lays all that's aberrant, all of nature's most hated.

{What are you talking about?}

This prose lambastes your naive ear? Your domain has mantled ours, the misery and despair of your realm has mirrored ours. Until it will become us.

Pragmatic flesh-cattle, listening for reason - let the soul gain your ears. Let your guts listen, let them churn from these primordial truths.

The misery you've witnessed, carved through your temporal home, is mirrored here. Both worlds drown in the tears of wanting mortals.

Your flesh-cattle were wading this red mire well before this hallowed hour.

Your little lord promised his walls as tribute, an amulet to seal our proposal. As is common with weak fleshed men, he betrayed us.

Reconciliation at the last moment has guaranteed an eternity for him within namira's embrace. She will rend his soul until the sum of this reality.

{Why are you doing this?}

Inquisitive flesh puppet, the kalpa has a destiny of doom. Your world will fade, and chaos will fall upon Oblivion once more.

With your clean..... fresh tower, the grim mother god will ensure survival into the next world, as this tower replaces the first on yours.

The deception will be complete, and when beings in the next world assemble to build the same constructs, the idea of of namira will be in their plans

The first tower they build will have our touch, and our power over reality will be supreme. All will know our pestilent touch.

Their arms will erect the frame, and our tools will make the tower whole. Their world will be mother's creation.

Exposition is trite for your destiny remains the same, my decimation or yours, conflict is always the resolution of gods and kings. Let fate play...



{Enough talk, we're taking that stone.}

Brash and impulsive the fickle beast becomes, The dragon and his mistress should have sent more suitable heralds. A waste of flesh.



[Scene where king argues then murders a lord]

So fragile, your incompetence is a result of your flesh - weak and fleeting. Worry not, little lord, my plans still proceed.

Sweet shrieks of mortal cattle - plead all you want, the inexorable tide of slaughter descends. Now come with me little lord, I want you to meet our mother!

[Scene where disembodied voice of King speaks to you]

Little lord, the hour approaches yet you stall. If you become a pest then the rape of your peoples will be unending...

....No, this isn't your touch, little lord. We have another observer, come to listen in on these affairs.

Hear me fleshy vessel; obfuscation of what is ordained for your realm will only evoke a more squalid demise. The threshold has been crossed, we no longer need the noose you hold to undergo the ceremony.

Come what may, thy kingdom will return.

[Player encounters King, and commences boss fight with him]

Orc, how your race has fallen. To think you were the most regal of us Elves - the gods weren't even merciful enough to end your shame.

{Quiet demon.}

I see the mind has suffered the same degradation as your form, very well degenerate, let us put on a show for mother.

[Scene where player ascends king's tower]

Chronicles of antecedent interlopers, each wreaking change. Another interloper ascends, to bore another event.

I will take your quill, and I will make the change.

[NPC ATTACKING PLAYER/ENEMY]
Ill-begotten blood.
Flesh-pet!
You defy the eight legs.
Trapped in the web.
Ugly thing.

[NPC BEING ATTACKED]
Futility.
Get back!
Skin-Cattle!
Eughhhhhhhh (demon scream).

[NPC Death]

Mother.... Was this your plan?



{King denigrates Orc, tells orc that malacath pales in power to Namira and that it's dangerous for both him and you. King talks of your race's tragic past as aldmer. Saying you are the tragic refuse of glorious race, that needs to be put out of misery. You ask king if he's allied with bretons, he laughs and calls them man cattle.}