“How long can this last? How long can we live like this? How long can terror hold sway over this country before the land dies? Before the people either die or succumb to the evil that desires to take us? Rumors abound, and people whisper of coming saviours. But what is accomplished by whispers? What good do coming saviours do us when demons rule the night?"
“My hand stretches over the land of Dauphiné, undermining this prosperous land from within, rot and despair are everywhere and my power grows daily. The peasants tell tales of coming caviours, but their ‘saviours’ come at my will; they bring with them the prize, my prize; what I need to gain my final victory."
“The nights are long and the days are dark, and I tire of the bloody battle I once yearned for. I wander outcast, while the curses of the gods, called down by my tribe, weigh heavy on my head. Yet I am undaunted. I feel something drawing me onward down the road I tread. What is this? Could it be what I have sought these long years? A valiant doom, the foe truly worthy of my blade?”