Ahh… more restless vermin come scratching at the stone, drawn by stories you scarcely understand. You stumble into this tomb with steel in hand and hope in your hearts, thinking yourselves heroes of legend. Yet you are nothing. Less than the dust that drifts through the void where I linger.

Another candle dares to flicker in my dark. How quaint. Tell me — you’re not yet another of that pestilent cambion’s pets, are you? He keeps flinging you mortals into my tomb like pebbles into a well. Truly, it’s becoming tiresome. But I must admit, the steady trickle of souls has been… nourishing.

Wait... what is that stench? Bhaal’s vile, cloying taint in the air... It stirs memories long buried... One could hear their infernal racket echoing across the planes. They barged into my sanctum, clanging and shouting, enchanted blades swinging like tavern drunks. Where did they get those ancient relics? Murder and pillage, I expect!