Myrll - Dimraeth NPC

Field	Value
Internal ID	Myrll
Official name	Myrll

Dialogue — General

Myrll: Thank you. I will tread as softly as moss underfoot and trouble no one’s peace.

She folds her hands at her waist, voice scarcely above a whisper.

I’m learning the shape of this place. It does not breathe like a forest. Still, I’m listening. Myrll: I can be as small as a shadow. You will scarcely know I’m here.

She folds her hands at her waist, voice scarcely above a whisper.

I’m learning the shape of this place. It does not breathe like a forest. Still, I’m listening. Myrll: Yes. I am comfortable. If you wish, ask how I’m settling in. Myrll: The air feels new on my skin, but kinder each day. I am settling.

She straightens slightly, careful and composed.

I still remember how to care for creatures, how to coax strength from silence. If you bring me what the forest once offered freely… I can shape something living from it again. Myrll: Stone presses close, yet I find the spaces between. That is enough for now.

She straightens slightly, careful and composed.

I still remember how to care for creatures, how to coax strength from silence. If you bring me what the forest once offered freely… I can shape something living from it again. Myrll: A fragment of my Dryad gift remains. It lets me coax green where I stand. Myrll: Friends from the grove who would not leave me. They know where they are wanted. Myrll: I will care for your companions as my own, and teach spells of leaf and root. All I ask is offerings steeped in the forest’s breath.

She inclines her head, listening as if to a far sound.

When you call, I will hear. The grove’s voice still answers me, even here. Myrll: Leave a companion with me and watch their strength return. Bring the right offerings, and I will weave them into something worthy.

She inclines her head, listening as if to a far sound.

When you call, I will hear. The grove’s voice still answers me, even here. Myrll: Here, always. Come when you have need. Myrll: I will be ready. With time and care, I can give back more than I’m given. Myrll: Then I will work until I meet that measure. I will keep careful record of each gift and return. Myrll: She folds her hands.

The tablet at the Pool of Remembrance is known to us all; it was carved not long after my rebirth. I watched from the brush while they etched the stone. I didn’t dare move. Myrll: It’s strange to speak of it aloud, but yes. I can try.

She takes a careful breath.

I had a name once, as an Elf. When the purge swept through, Ceres called us to her roots. I remember the silence more than the change; my breath no longer steamed in winter. Myrll: I was Elven. That life ended, but not completely.

She takes a careful breath.

I had a name once, as an Elf. When the purge swept through, Ceres called us to her roots. I remember the silence more than the change; my breath no longer steamed in winter. Myrll: It is a grove in Ceres’s care, a place for memory to settle. My story touches it, if you still wish to hear. Myrll: We were her priestesses, and she could not bear to lose us. She wove us into the forest, and we became something between spirit and root.

She lowers her gaze.

The purge was a terrible time. The screaming ended, but the silence after stayed longer. Now it feels like a dream the forest barely remembers. Myrll: Not fully spirit and not fully flesh. She made us half material and half memory. That is a Dryad.

She lowers her gaze.

The purge was a terrible time. The screaming ended, but the silence after stayed longer. Now it feels like a dream the forest barely remembers. Myrll: She took us in her embrace and remade us in her image. We became one with her domain, forever under her protection. Immortal. But I am not sure how much of that protection remains. Myrll: That kindness reaches farther than you think. Thank you, truly.

She speaks quietly.

The tablet… they carved it slowly, with care. Even the chisel sounded softer that day. It was meant to last. Myrll: Of course. It speaks of what was lost, and what must never be forgotten.

She speaks quietly.

The tablet… they carved it slowly, with care. Even the chisel sounded softer that day. It was meant to last. Myrll: It was the darkest of times, what felt like an endless night. The leaders we once trusted with our future turned on us, seeking to cull Elven kind in the name of its preservation. Myrll: It is a lament for the lost, a prayer to Ceres to guide them gently back to root and soil. And a reminder, so none forget what silence cost. Myrll: It mourns the dead and begs us to remember. That is enough. Myrll: Some time after the purge, the Elves returned to the land and found what remained. The forest was still beautiful and the fallen statue was protected by the roots. They saw it as a sign of Ceres, and there they carved the tablet. Myrll: She smooths the hem of her sleeve, gaze distant.

Oh… yes, I knew him from afar for many hundreds of years. He was a great Tree-Father, tall and patient, kind to the youngest saplings. The forest felt steadier when his roots held fast. Myrll: I feared that day would come. Thank you; even madness deserves an ending with dignity.

She folds her hands, fingertips brushing lightly together.

I understand… once they give themselves to the corruption, they cannot return to what they were. It wraps around their spirit like rot beneath bark, quiet at first then hollowing. What you did… it was mercy. Myrll: He could no longer tell friend from foe, even a threat to the forest. Thank you for ending it.

She folds her hands, fingertips brushing lightly together.

I understand… once they give themselves to the corruption, they cannot return to what they were. It wraps around their spirit like rot beneath bark, quiet at first then hollowing. What you did… it was mercy. Myrll: A Tree-Father is an elder of the Treants. He guides the others and shelters the young. He works with the Rootweavers. They teach care for the trees and help others understand Ceres’s Will. Myrll: He was a leader, but leaders still feel fear and anger. The forest was changing, and he couldn’t accept it.

She glances toward the cavern ceiling, as if watching old branches sway.

He withdrew from the grove’s counsel and stopped tending to the saplings. He spread his roots toward the edges, toward roads and axes, not to listen but to warn. Myrll: Not at first. Over time he let the fury in, and it offered him power. He said yes.

She glances toward the cavern ceiling, as if watching old branches sway.

He withdrew from the grove’s counsel and stopped tending to the saplings. He spread his roots toward the edges, toward roads and axes, not to listen but to warn. Myrll: No. Corruption can’t take your will unless you offer it. That is the difference between the madness you’ve seen and those who are truly lost. His change began there. Myrll: The pain broke something in him. When the corruption stirred beneath the roots, it found his fury waiting… and he welcomed it.

Her voice lowers, and she draws her knees closer in thought.

The madness came first, as it always does: confusion, fear, lashing out. He went further and embraced it, believing his anger was righteous. When the corruption offered him strength, he did not resist; he invited it in. Myrll: Yes. Rage thins the bark and makes the soul brittle. When the corruption came he no longer resisted. To him, it felt like justice.

Her voice lowers, and she draws her knees closer in thought.

The madness came first, as it always does: confusion, fear, lashing out. He went further and embraced it, believing his anger was righteous. When the corruption offered him strength, he did not resist; he invited it in. Myrll: The villagers were desperate after the last Goblin raids. They cut deeper, for stronger walls and better arms, and for warmth through winter. We usually keep a balance that allows hunting and careful harvests. This strain made acceptance harder for many and left some hearts open to darker influence. Myrll: Thank you. I carry sorrow quietly, but your kindness makes it feel less alone. Myrll: I do, and I must; the cycle turns. One day they’ll walk again, whole and unshadowed. Myrll: The only way is to root out the corruption itself. If it’s banished, the forest will see reason again and return to Ceres’s Will. Myrll: Myrll’s smile brightens at the name; her ears lift, then settle as if a weight follows the warmth.

Oh, yes. I know Basilton well. He is gentle with the small creatures, and I often spoke with his friend, Acorn.

And yet… the forest’s treatment of him has always troubled my heart. Myrll: You… you don’t know? It is… a painful thing. Unjust.

Basilton has defended this forest for a very long time. Longer than some of those who condemn him.

He has lived here for hundreds of years, and still the Treefathers reject him. They insist he is not true forest-kin.

But he was born here. The forest made him. I cannot accept their judgement. Myrll: No. Don’t call him weak. Gentleness is not weakness, and it isn’t true of him.

Basilton has defended this forest for a very long time. Longer than some of those who condemn him.

He has lived here for hundreds of years, and still the Treefathers reject him. They insist he is not true forest-kin.

But he was born here. The forest made him. I cannot accept their judgement. Myrll: Acorn would ask after the well-being of the creatures under my care when he could not reach them himself. Other times, we would speak of Basilton when I was not able to meet with him. Myrll: I have. And I’m grateful for it. He has always been kind, always been true.

I watched Basilton grow, year by year. When he first appeared, the others warned everyone away from him.

He built a small home, as if he had nowhere else to go… and then he began his garden.

Acorn was the first I asked about him. I didn’t know Basilton’s name yet. Acorn told me Basilton was kind, and that he had saved him from wolves. That is how their friendship began.

So I went, against the Treefathers’ wishes. I believed Ceres would not make a gentle being only to have him turned away.

He received me with such warmth. He showed me his garden, and the little lives he tended. From that day, I trusted him. Myrll: I understand the thought, but it’s a poor measure. He belongs because the forest made him, and because he has protected it.

I watched Basilton grow, year by year. When he first appeared, the others warned everyone away from him.

He built a small home, as if he had nowhere else to go… and then he began his garden.

Acorn was the first I asked about him. I didn’t know Basilton’s name yet. Acorn told me Basilton was kind, and that he had saved him from wolves. That is how their friendship began.

So I went, against the Treefathers’ wishes. I believed Ceres would not make a gentle being only to have him turned away.

He received me with such warmth. He showed me his garden, and the little lives he tended. From that day, I trusted him. Myrll: Please, no. Basilton would never choose violence. Not for himself, and not against the forest.

I watched Basilton grow, year by year. When he first appeared, the others warned everyone away from him.

He built a small home, as if he had nowhere else to go… and then he began his garden.

Acorn was the first I asked about him. I didn’t know Basilton’s name yet. Acorn told me Basilton was kind, and that he had saved him from wolves. That is how their friendship began.

So I went, against the Treefathers’ wishes. I believed Ceres would not make a gentle being only to have him turned away.

He received me with such warmth. He showed me his garden, and the little lives he tended. From that day, I trusted him. Myrll: They say he is not bound to the forest’s order the way treants, spirits, and animals are. And because no golem like him has been born here before, they call him an error. He has saved small creatures from wolves, even when the forest would not decree it. Myrll: Myrll’s blush flickers, quick and shy.

Oh… you are kind. Truly. But this is Basilton’s story. Myrll: Yes. I am glad he has one… and grateful it can be me. Myrll: Then let it. Better to fall with a good soul than live as something hollow. Myrll: Oh, Befr. I know him.

He has walked these woods a long, long while, and he has always treated the small lives with care.

Where he passes, you can feel it. Not power… just gentleness made real, with gifts in his palm. The forest has seldom welcomed a human the way it welcomes him. Myrll: He is. And thank you for speaking of him kindly.

Myrll’s expression turns thoughtful, as if she’s listening back through time.

I remember when I first met him. By then I had heard stories from other dryads and treants. A strange human who always carried gifts. They called him ‘the strange one,’ long before ‘the old one.’

I was singing among the grove, tending to the little ones… and then I heard a humming in my mind that matched my song. That was his greeting, I think.

I fell silent, and the humming continued as he stepped from the brush. He walked right up and offered berries to the little ones as if he’d known them forever.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. Then he turned to me and spoke in my old Elven tongue. He offered me a berry. I refused, politely… and I was stunned.

And then he simply walked on, humming, and vanished back into the Wildwood. Myrll: Then let that be enough. Whatever brought him to you, you kept a good ally close.

Myrll’s expression turns thoughtful, as if she’s listening back through time.

I remember when I first met him. By then I had heard stories from other dryads and treants. A strange human who always carried gifts. They called him ‘the strange one,’ long before ‘the old one.’

I was singing among the grove, tending to the little ones… and then I heard a humming in my mind that matched my song. That was his greeting, I think.

I fell silent, and the humming continued as he stepped from the brush. He walked right up and offered berries to the little ones as if he’d known them forever.

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. Then he turned to me and spoke in my old Elven tongue. He offered me a berry. I refused, politely… and I was stunned.

And then he simply walked on, humming, and vanished back into the Wildwood. Myrll: I have known him a long time. But I will not name his age. I promised. He said it is rude to speak an old man’s years… and that it troubles those who call him friend. Myrll: It is. That is why he is known as a friend to all that is good. Myrll: Myrll giggles softly.

You are not the only one. I have lived thousands of years, and I still lose my words around him. Myrll: At times he can be confusing… but that asks you to listen more closely. His words are rarely empty. Myrll: To this day, I don’t know. I have asked, and he only smiled and said, ‘Why spoil the joy of a mystery, my dear?’ I admit… I pouted after that. Myrll: Myrll meets your eyes for a brief moment, then her gaze slips down again, careful and quiet.

Oh… yes. I know it. The place people now call the Ruins of Lost Lament.

It was once a temple to Ceres.

My temple. My home. Myrll: It does. Yet… it is good to speak of it, to remember what once was.

When the purge was upon us, we hid inside the temple.

The High Priestess promised we would be safe. The Empire’s soldiers would not dare lay hands on a place of Ceres.

So we stayed. We did not step outside. We listened, and we waited, and we leaned on one another. My sisters… my family in that place.

Until the soldiers came anyway.

We drew together in the living quarters. The High Priestess guided us in prayer as we heard them closing in.

Then they stormed the temple, and blood was spilled… and Ceres saved us. That was the turning. Myrll: You may be right… but it still affects me.

When the purge was upon us, we hid inside the temple.

The High Priestess promised we would be safe. The Empire’s soldiers would not dare lay hands on a place of Ceres.

So we stayed. We did not step outside. We listened, and we waited, and we leaned on one another. My sisters… my family in that place.

Until the soldiers came anyway.

We drew together in the living quarters. The High Priestess guided us in prayer as we heard them closing in.

Then they stormed the temple, and blood was spilled… and Ceres saved us. That was the turning. Myrll: Thank you. It helps… to remember it with someone who does not mock it.

I haven’t returned there since the turning. I can’t make myself.

I loved that temple when I was a priestess… but to see what it has become, and to remember that day… it hurts too much. Myrll: Many were. I won’t pretend otherwise. We were closer to the gods once, yes… and then we fell from that height.

I haven’t returned there since the turning. I can’t make myself.

I loved that temple when I was a priestess… but to see what it has become, and to remember that day… it hurts too much. Myrll: If I had died there, you would not be speaking to me now. I will not apologize for the life I was given.

I haven’t returned there since the turning. I can’t make myself.

I loved that temple when I was a priestess… but to see what it has become, and to remember that day… it hurts too much. Myrll: A calmness settles over Myrll at the thought.

I… I think your presence could make all the difference. Myrll: Myrll nods once, small and sincere.

As do I. Myrll: Perhaps. But I’m not ready to bury it as if it meant nothing. Myrll: Myrll’s eyes drop to the ground; one hand rises to guard her face as if to steady her breath.

I… yes.

Even cut off, I felt the moment he fell. The whole forest did.

To hear you say it brings me grief… and clarity.

We mourn him. And we understand why it had to be done. He was truly lost. Myrll: Only as the forest knows its king, from afar… and yet bound to him all the same.

None of us knew him the way mortals know a person.

But he was our medium to Ceres, her emissary. Through him, the forest heard her will, and she heard ours.

He guided the Wildwood for thousands of years, long before I was made dryad.

Every root, every blade of grass… the birth of every creature, great and small. His rule was just, and it kept faith with Ceres. Myrll: You would mourn him too, if you had known what he was before the corruption.

None of us knew him the way mortals know a person.

But he was our medium to Ceres, her emissary. Through him, the forest heard her will, and she heard ours.

He guided the Wildwood for thousands of years, long before I was made dryad.

Every root, every blade of grass… the birth of every creature, great and small. His rule was just, and it kept faith with Ceres. Myrll: The connection still lingers. All children of Ceres share something at the root, even in exile. And he, Ceres’s emissary, was the one we were joined through. Myrll: Yes. Once.

I saw him with my own eyes only once.

Not bound to the elder tree, or to the shape you faced… but as a spirit, in the form of the forest itself.

It was after my turning, when I was newly made dryad. I was on the ground, lost and alone, and then I felt a presence that calmed the pain.

I looked up, and there he was: leaves gathered in the canopy, and eyes like sunlight breaking through.

He said nothing. Yet I felt my purpose settle into place: tenderness, and care for the little ones. Myrll: Divine presence is a strange thing to measure. He was always there… and yet never a hand at your shoulder.

I saw him with my own eyes only once.

Not bound to the elder tree, or to the shape you faced… but as a spirit, in the form of the forest itself.

It was after my turning, when I was newly made dryad. I was on the ground, lost and alone, and then I felt a presence that calmed the pain.

I looked up, and there he was: leaves gathered in the canopy, and eyes like sunlight breaking through.

He said nothing. Yet I felt my purpose settle into place: tenderness, and care for the little ones. Myrll: Myrll’s face relaxes, her breath steadies; her posture eases.

Yes… I think so too. He felt I was lost, and he guided me into this life.

Myrll’s gaze lifts from the ground. Sorrow remains, but her voice steadies into solemn resolve.

Now he is gone.

It was just… and necessary. The corruption had taken who he was, and the whole forest suffered for it.

You released him, and you released us.

He will regrow in time, as all emissaries of Ceres do. Until then, we must live by the memory of his guidance.

Though I am no longer a dryad of the Tirathlan, I thank you… on behalf of the forest. Myrll: Yes. He came to see me… and I believe he knew I was lost, and needed guidance.

Myrll’s gaze lifts from the ground. Sorrow remains, but her voice steadies into solemn resolve.

Now he is gone.

It was just… and necessary. The corruption had taken who he was, and the whole forest suffered for it.

You released him, and you released us.

He will regrow in time, as all emissaries of Ceres do. Until then, we must live by the memory of his guidance.

Though I am no longer a dryad of the Tirathlan, I thank you… on behalf of the forest. Myrll: After all you have seen of this forest… you still doubt me?

Myrll’s gaze lifts from the ground. Sorrow remains, but her voice steadies into solemn resolve.

Now he is gone.

It was just… and necessary. The corruption had taken who he was, and the whole forest suffered for it.

You released him, and you released us.

He will regrow in time, as all emissaries of Ceres do. Until then, we must live by the memory of his guidance.

Though I am no longer a dryad of the Tirathlan, I thank you… on behalf of the forest. Myrll: Myrll smiles, a quiet happiness in her eyes.

Yes… I may. And I hope our paths entwine like roots, long and gentle. Myrll: Yes. It can heal. It will take time, and there is still corruption to fight… but the worst of this wound has passed. Myrll: I understand. And still, I thank you. Not for pride. For what you protected. Myrll: Oh! I… yes. I suppose I was not hiding it very well.

There is something I wished to speak about.

You sheltered me when I was cast out, and helped the small ones I could no longer reach. You stood against the corruption that took my home.

I am grateful. More than I can say.

But I do not understand something yet. Why did you choose me? Why bring me into this place? Myrll: Myrll’s blush spreads quickly, and she hides her smile for a moment.

That is… a very dangerous kindness, Faerethil. Say it too often and I may start believing you.

I must ask you something else.

How do you know which action is right?

For a dryad, the path is given through Ceres. We listen, we understand, we obey. There is peace in that.

But mortals must choose with clouded sight.

And now… perhaps I must as well.

I was once an elf, yes, but it has been so long that I seem to have misplaced the habit.

How do you discern the Good when it is not spoken clearly to you? Myrll: The right thing… yes. You say it so simply, but there is strength in that.

I must ask you something else.

How do you know which action is right?

For a dryad, the path is given through Ceres. We listen, we understand, we obey. There is peace in that.

But mortals must choose with clouded sight.

And now… perhaps I must as well.

I was once an elf, yes, but it has been so long that I seem to have misplaced the habit.

How do you discern the Good when it is not spoken clearly to you? Myrll: Then perhaps your will knew before your words did.

I must ask you something else.

How do you know which action is right?

For a dryad, the path is given through Ceres. We listen, we understand, we obey. There is peace in that.

But mortals must choose with clouded sight.

And now… perhaps I must as well.

I was once an elf, yes, but it has been so long that I seem to have misplaced the habit.

How do you discern the Good when it is not spoken clearly to you? Myrll: I see. Use has its place. I can accept that… though I hope, in time, there may be more.

I must ask you something else.

How do you know which action is right?

For a dryad, the path is given through Ceres. We listen, we understand, we obey. There is peace in that.

But mortals must choose with clouded sight.

And now… perhaps I must as well.

I was once an elf, yes, but it has been so long that I seem to have misplaced the habit.

How do you discern the Good when it is not spoken clearly to you? Myrll: Watch and listen more closely… yes. Perhaps I have not lost guidance. Perhaps I have only lost certainty.

Perhaps this is what mortal races call free will.

This space between certainty and action. This need to discern, not merely obey.

It frightens me… but it also stirs something in me.

To choose the Good from my own will again. I had forgotten how vast that feels. Myrll: So you act from what you can see, even when you cannot see all. That is frightening… but brave.

Perhaps this is what mortal races call free will.

This space between certainty and action. This need to discern, not merely obey.

It frightens me… but it also stirs something in me.

To choose the Good from my own will again. I had forgotten how vast that feels. Myrll: That sounds simple, but dangerous. A will aimed at the wrong thing only grows stronger in error.

Perhaps this is what mortal races call free will.

This space between certainty and action. This need to discern, not merely obey.

It frightens me… but it also stirs something in me.

To choose the Good from my own will again. I had forgotten how vast that feels. Myrll: Myrll smiles warmly at your reassurance.

You are kind to say so. I hope my heart proves worthy of such trust.

Myrll’s fingers draw together, then loosen; she looks nervous, but determined to finish.

There is one more thing I wished to say.

I am grateful you brought me here. More than grateful.

At first, I thought I was only being sheltered. But now… I think I have found a place I can choose.

I want to remain, and to know you more. I want to stand against the corruption beside you.

If you will have me, this is my fight too. Myrll: Survival matters. I know that. But if survival is all I seek, then I may lose the very thing I mean to preserve.

Myrll’s fingers draw together, then loosen; she looks nervous, but determined to finish.

There is one more thing I wished to say.

I am grateful you brought me here. More than grateful.

At first, I thought I was only being sheltered. But now… I think I have found a place I can choose.

I want to remain, and to know you more. I want to stand against the corruption beside you.

If you will have me, this is my fight too. Myrll: Myrll’s eyes sparkle, and a shy smile breaks through before she can stop it.

Then… yes. I would like that very much. Myrll: Myrll’s smile fades; she lowers her gaze and nods once.

Yes. Of course. I will remain useful to you.

Dialogue — Greetings First Encounter

Myrll: The dryad flinches as you draw near, clutching her side.

I… I do not wish to fight. Please, say what you came for…? Myrll: Myrll looks up to you as you draw near

Do you… need something? Myrll: Myrll looks up to you as you draw near

It’s good to see you.

Dialogue — Greetings Sanctum

Myrll: The dryad flinches as you draw near, clutching her side.

I… I do not wish to fight. Please, say what you came for…? Myrll: Myrll looks up to you as you draw near

Do you… need something? Myrll: Myrll looks up to you as you draw near

It’s good to see you. Myrll: Myrll flinches at your approach, then lowers her gaze and steadies her breath.

Thank you for inviting me here. I will keep to the quiet and not disturb your rhythm. Myrll: Myrll’s gaze lingers on the ground, her fox ears drooping; when she notices you, they lift and she straightens, as if caught unguarded.

Adventurer… hello. Forgive me. My thoughts had gone rooting about where they shouldn’t. Myrll: Ah. Faerethil. Thank you for coming. I have something I should tell you, if you can spare the breath.

Dialogue — SQ1

Myrll: Her gaze drops, and her fingers clutch the moss beside her

My… my sisters… they turned on me. The forest… the forest turned on me. Ceres has abandoned me.

They called the wolves, and the forest answered. I… barely escaped. This grove is the only place that still remembers me. Myrll: All I said was we didn’t need to be so angry with the villagers… It’s all part of Ceres’s order, the laws of the forest…

But even the roots seem to curl with fury now. There is no gentleness left. Myrll: My sisters… they are not themselves… not anymore. You need to free them from their bindings.

There is a corrupted heart, deep in the forest. They are guarding it. It gives them power, but in return it is taking away their free will.

If you destroy it, they might find rest. Otherwise… they are prisoners to its will. Myrll: Their spirit will return to the forest and they will be reborn. It’s the only way. If they remain like this, their souls will wither, twisted beyond return. Myrll: She bows her head, voice fragile but sincere.

Thank you… I do not know why you would help me. My name is Myrll. Myrll: Myrll’s breath catches, tears shining in her eyes as she nods slowly.

They are free… I can feel it. The weight is lighter now.

But I… I have no grove to return to. No voice in the wind to call mine. The forest no longer hears me. Myrll: You… would take me with you? I’ve never been anywhere but the Wildwood…

Where is it you go, where one like me might find shelter again? Myrll: The Waygates of the great old? I have not seen them active for millennia.

What power stirs in you to awaken something so old? Myrll: Oh my… you are touched by magic that none living understand. I fear for you.

Still… you have shown me kindness. I will go with you. Myrll: I understand why you are secretive. The power you hold is one that none living today understand.

Still… you have shown me kindness. I will go with you. Myrll: She lowers her gaze and folds her hands gently

I will wait… and try not to be in the way.

Dialogue — SQ2

Myrll: It is… a small thing. I can tell you, if you truly mean it. I only did not wish to trouble you.

It is just… I have not seen many of my friends in the forest for some time, and I worry for them. My bond to the wilds is nearly cut, yet my heart still reaches for those I once tended. Myrll: N-no. It will not. I will not let it pull me from what I must do.

It is just… I have not seen many of my friends in the forest for some time, and I worry for them. My bond to the wilds is nearly cut, yet my heart still reaches for those I once tended. Myrll: You would check on them? That would truly ease me, to know they are safe.

You will find them across the northern forest. That was my place, when the wilds still counted me kin. If you can, return to me and tell me how they fare. Myrll: I do not wish to impose, dear adventurer… but yes. If you happened to see them, it would set my thoughts at rest.

You will find them across the northern forest. That was my place, when the wilds still counted me kin. If you can, return to me and tell me how they fare. Myrll: The small and gentle lives. Otters, rabbits, birds. They were under my care, in the days the forest still answered me. Myrll: That is kindness enough. You do not need their words to see if they are safe. Thank you, Adventurer… truly. Myrll: That is more than enough. I will not press you. If you simply keep an eye out, I will be grateful. Myrll: Yes. The otter pair at the Clear Spring, the birds at the Nesting Hollow, and the rabbit family near the Waystone Burrow. Myrll: Myrll’s eyes widen and her fox ears lift; she studies you with a fragile hope.

You saw them? Please. Tell me how they fare. The otter pair first… are they safe? Myrll: Ceres keep them. Even now they choose the work that keeps them living… brave little souls.

Myrll nods, turning your words over with care before she looks up again.

And the birds at the Nesting Hollow… are they well? Are they still keeping their small order? Myrll: Do not name it hopeless. If they still build, they still have an end worth reaching. That is strength.

Myrll nods, turning your words over with care before she looks up again.

And the birds at the Nesting Hollow… are they well? Are they still keeping their small order? Myrll: Good. They hold to their height and their work. What happens below cannot draw them from it. Bless them.

And the rabbit families at Waystone Burrow… what of them? Myrll: Then they have chosen their own rule and kept it. That is no cruelty, only clear sight. Bless them for it.

And the rabbit families at Waystone Burrow… what of them? Myrll: You cleared their ways? Thank you. That is the work gentleness asks for. Quiet, and needed.

Myrll’s hands clasp tight before her; she steadies her breath, then meets your eyes.

Thank you… for tending to them. For seeing them. Even without my bond, I carry them in my heart now by choice, not by spirit. Myrll: Alive, then. Disturbed, but breathing. You did enough. You chose the right end and acted.

Myrll’s hands clasp tight before her; she steadies her breath, then meets your eyes.

Thank you… for tending to them. For seeing them. Even without my bond, I carry them in my heart now by choice, not by spirit. Myrll: Adventurer… you speak as you act. If you seek a place in my heart, you have already stepped toward it. Return whenever you wish. Myrll: Then you understand. To guard the small is not lesser work. I wish the world held more wills like yours. Myrll: If you want a debt, take this truth: I will not trade gentleness for fear. But I will remember what you protected. That still matters.

Dialogue — SQ3

Myrll: Then I am fortunate… thank you.

Myrll’s hands clasp in front of her in concern.

One of my old friends found me today. A bird of the Wildwood. It told me our old home is unsettled, and that harm is moving under the cover of soothing lies. I hate to ask again… but I must. Help the small lives there. Keep them from what would take them. Myrll: Yes. I understand. I will be quick.

Myrll’s hands clasp in front of her in concern.

One of my old friends found me today. A bird of the Wildwood. It told me our old home is unsettled, and that harm is moving under the cover of soothing lies. I hate to ask again… but I must. Help the small lives there. Keep them from what would take them. Myrll: It is a name for a friend, from my first tongue. A friend of the forest. Myrll: Thank you for hearing me, dear adventurer.

There are three troubles near my old paths. Wolves have taken the Silent Path and call it ‘order,’ ruling by fear. A nest of little ones is held by corruption beneath an illusion that makes it look well. And rot has spread through the Shining Fungus Grove. I ask you to break these harms. Bring me a sample of the corrupted fungus first, then clear what remains. Myrll: Then I will be brief. Thank you.

There are three troubles near my old paths. Wolves have taken the Silent Path and call it ‘order,’ ruling by fear. A nest of little ones is held by corruption beneath an illusion that makes it look well. And rot has spread through the Shining Fungus Grove. I ask you to break these harms. Bring me a sample of the corrupted fungus first, then clear what remains. Myrll: Thank you, my dear Faerethil. Return to me with the sample, so I may sense what hides within it. Myrll: Please reconsider. I will not pretend it is small to ask. But it matters to me. If you help, return to me… with the sample. Myrll: With the forest in chaos, they have seized control through fear and named it ‘order.’ A false good. They take what they want and leave the small ones with little to live on. Myrll: At the Choking Vine, corruption has taken the nest and wrapped it in an illusion, so it appears peaceful from outside. It feeds on them and will not let them free. Please, break it. Myrll: The rot has claimed the Shining Fungus Grove, where food for nearby creatures grows. Clear it, but bring me a sample first. I want to sense its nature, and what the corruption is trying to do. Myrll: That warms my heart to hear. The forest will feel it, I think… and so will I. Tell me, did you bring the rot sample? Myrll: Thank you. Let me take it. I’ll try to discern its nature.

Myrll takes the corruption sample into her hand. She flinches hard, eyes squeezed shut, fighting to keep her breath steady. After a moment she lets it fall. It strikes the ground and crumbles to nothing.

Such malice… it presses like thorns. I can hear a will behind it. I glimpsed what it wants, what it promises, and who it’s reaching for. Myrll: It is worth it. Give it to me, and I’ll discern what’s in it.

Myrll takes the corruption sample into her hand. She flinches hard, eyes squeezed shut, fighting to keep her breath steady. After a moment she lets it fall. It strikes the ground and crumbles to nothing.

Such malice… it presses like thorns. I can hear a will behind it. I glimpsed what it wants, what it promises, and who it’s reaching for. Myrll: It… stings. Contact with it is a heavy thing.

I must be still for a time… forgive me. It took more from me than I expected. Myrll: You’re right. Fear only feeds it. I just need a moment to steady myself.

I must be still for a time… forgive me. It took more from me than I expected. Myrll: Its will feels like Ira, the dark god of Wrath. A mockery of justice. It wants the forest sealed and sharpened into a weapon, then turned outward in revenge. Myrll: It offers power through rage. Judgement without sight. It whispers that anger is ‘truth.’ And it offers this to the lord of the Wildwood… Ceres’s emissary. I can scarcely bear to name him in this shadow. Myrll: I… I’m not used to being spoken to like that. It’s sweet. Too sweet. Thank you, Faerethil… I’ll rest, and I’ll return to you. Myrll: You’re kind to allow it. I’ll rest now. I won’t keep you waiting. Myrll: I understand. I’ve disappointed you. I’m sorry. I will recover, and I will do better. Myrll: It is because you are mortal, not so deeply touched by the Numen realm. Spirits feel corruption clearly, hear it clearly. That is why the forest is mad.

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.