Every Little Death Helps
in recovering its strength.
<The whispers are faint, but grow louder as you hold the blade in your hand.>
So weak... need... blood... souls...
<The voice trails off, but you can still sense the dagger urging you on.>
Ah... much better. How cruel of that priest to leave me in such a state!
But enough about me. No doubt you have many questions. I can offer countless answers.
You will receive:
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