Hail Knight! You seek my Relics with a worthy heart! Your prayers have woken me from my endless dream. Or perhaps you have entered my dream, and I still sleep. I think others have sometimes spoken to me, others like you, but my memory is doubtful. Perhaps the others came after you. Your need must be great for the gods to allow us to speak. Has Umaril the Accursed found a way back? The foulest of a foul race. A thousand curses upon his unholy name! I thought I'd won. But I should have known. The Slavemasters are a cunning breed. Umaril found a way to cheat death, as I could not. If you would seek for my Relics, I know little that can help you. All that has passed since my death is like mist that my mind cannot take hold of. My friends built a shrine upon the site of my death, where the Elves tormented me in a final act of revenge. I can show you where it once stood. Perhaps it is there still. Fare thee well, sir knight. May the gods grant you to destroy Umaril utterly, as I failed to do.