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You can not even imagine how old I am. In your wildest dreams you won't see the things I have seen. I am the last of my race and even though I am several centuries old I am not immortal and will eventually die. I fear that day. Not for me - I am weary and I don't care much about if I'm alive or dead. But I fear for all these memories that will die with me. For all those who no one will remember anymore.
Words can't truly preserve their essence so I will leave no books or stone tablets. If I die, everything I have witnessed will die with me as if it has never existed. I was there when Rorak slew Tingil at the stairs of the seven temples. I was there as Riik led his peaceloving people to the far north to find refuge from the war. I was there to witness the betrayal of Asric for the whims of a female that was long dead by then. I fought with the last Frdai a futile battle on the plains of Weskurt against the unseen legion. I witnessed Ss'rar making his move on ascension to become the serpent god. I watched the first elves struggling to form a nation with the help of the lightbearers. It was me who assisted the great calculator to assemble the bonelords language. And you come here to this mountain and ask me how to win the heart of some shepherdess? This world has become a ridiculous mockery.
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