Narrator: They say that history is the greatest of all teachers, and that tales of past deeds define who we are in the present, and what we shall be in the future. It is said that such tales shall with each telling illuminate us all with the light of truth.
Yxunomei: So it has come to this, has it? I did not expect a group of natives to interfere with my vendetta. Why have you come here killing my minions?
Player: [Option 2] What vendetta do you speak of?
Yxunomei: My vendetta is none of your concern. Your involvement in this matter is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. A molt of dust floating for a small moment in the sea of time.
Player: [Option 3] Why do you need the heartstone gem?
Yxunomei: My interest in the heartstone gem is personal. I have been waging a war for quite some time. This world is simply another battlefield. The gem is one of several instruments I use to fight my battles.
Reverend Brother Poquelin: You again. I admire your persistence, but come now... I think it is time that you accepted the fact that it is not within your power to stop me.
Player: [Option 1] Why don't you step away from that stone and I'll show you just what I am capable of?
Reverend Brother Poquelin: There is no need for such empty threats. The only reason you are still alive is because I want you to witness this historical moment.
Wylfdene: Why are you here, outlander? I see no shaman for you to hide behind this time.
Player: [Option 1] I have seen the Seer of the ice caverns. She sent me to you.
Wylfdene: I see... you lose one shaman that shielded you and now you hide behind another. So tell me, why did she send you?
Player: To bring you a gift, Wylfdene. A mirror of ice.
Wylfdene: Gift for me, a mirror? You humor me, outlander. Neither I or my people have use of such a thing. It is a toy of your people. It plays upon the vanity of fools and females. Why would she give me such a thing? No more likely this is some outlander trick designed to slay me. You seek to succeed where your previous assassin failed.
Player: You say that I hide behind a shaman and all the while you hide behind a curtain of words. What is it that you fear?
Wylfdene: I am Wylfdene, guided and blessed by the spirit of Jerrod. I fear nothing, outlander.
Player: So you say. Yet you find a simple mirror to be daunting. I will gaze into the mirror without fear... See?
Wylfdene: Hmph. And what is it that you see? What truth is revealed to you?
Player: I see a man that accepts who he is, good or evil. A man who does not fear the truth of his own reflection.
Wylfdene: What indeed... Wylfdene shall see the truth of his reflection, outlander. He shall see a king raised from the dead, the forming of a great nation and the triumph of his people as the ten towns are erased from the face of Faerun! Hold forth your mirror and see such a King among men!
Player: Gaze deep, Wylfdene. Reveal to us the truth of your words.
[Wyledene is given the mirror of ice.]
Wylfdene: Bah. Your mirror is nothing more than I expected a simple toy that... No... NO! It cannot be!
Wylfdene: What have I done? This hideous form defiles the majesty of my being! ENOUGH! Put away your mirror!
Player: Majesty of your being? Wh—?
Seer: Ah, sight is painful is it not, Spirit? Such pain is well-known to me.
Seer: And seeing yourself as you truly are, the most painful thing of all. Look into the mirror creature that is Wylfdene. See truth... See yourself.
Wylfdene: What do you know of pain, HAG? I held the north in my claws! When I spread my wings, I shadowed the face of the world! I WAS A GODDESS!
Player: Icasaracht, I'd rather we come to some sort of agreement than fight. Can we do this?
Icasaracht: Never! My heart was shattered long ago and all mercy bled from the wound!
Icasaracht: I lost my love, my life and my kingdom. I shall reclaim it all or I shall pass into oblivion like most of my kind.
Olap Tamewater: You see this bit of wall here? Well, I can't patch it with air.
Player: Really? I'm beginning to see why they made you the engineer.
Isair: Ah, yes, Nym... It seems he'll help anyone as long as it profits him. In any case here we are.
Player: [Dialogue option 1] What do you mean?
Isair: Hush, hush, bold one. There's much for me to do. No time to bandy words.
Isair: You seem to be under the impression that you're saving the ten towns, but you see those cruel-minded ill-mannered louts are in no need of saving.
Isair: The new order my sister and I will bestow upon the North will benefit all. No more will the outcasts of your so called civilization of hypocritical mundanes be forced to huddle in the shadows, feed on scraps or be banished to lands barren and unwanted.
Drow Male: Make sure to keep me out of the sunlight. This book says my powers will fade in "one dee-six months"... whatever that means.
Male Bard: My cunning so strong, my savvy great. While I laugh and jest, you meet your fate.
Male Rogue 1: Murder most foul crafts victory most fair.