Game text

902,736 entries

• Ascend the cliff by using assisted leaps.
• What a day! I've always wanted to punch a dragon in the Mouth.
• And now your dream has come—wait. Did you feel that?
• I felt THAT. This whole place is coming down. Run, or we'll be celebrating in the Mists!
• The door's still shut tight. Come on, Zrii. It's demolition time!
• Why didn't you ask me sooner? By the time I set the charges, it'll be too late.
• Move aside, then. All that door needs is a dose of my shoulder.
• Ha! Another wriggling worm squashed!
• Ah, but you charr are almost cute when you're that age.
• Don't let that fool you. They're plenty tough. You mess with the cub, you get the horn nubs.
• Forewarned is forearmed. Good-bye.
• Why are you here excavating?
• I'm tracing the path of Rurik, the human prince who assaulted Bonfaaz Burntfur's forces two years after the Searing.
• What do you know about the other research here in the ruins?
• There are similar projects. Jorg is searching for the Tome of the Fallen. Arae is seeking what she calls the "truth" about Rurik's ambush of Rin. I also have another project.
• What's that project about?
• You're a mechanic?
• I think I'm okay. Thanks.
• Yeah, I get that reaction all the time. "But, Vesta, you're too pretty to be a mechanic." I usually deck 'em.
• Good for you. So, you're Iron Legion?
• Kalla Scorchrazor would be proud. So long.
• You guys are all alike. "But Vesta, you're too pretty to be a mechanic." What a pathetic pick-up line.
• I wasn't flirting, I just...so, you're Iron Legion?
• I think I'd better be going. Bye.
• You could say I've got iron in my blood. When a rivet gun slams an iron bolt into a four inch thick armored plate, it's like music to my ears. I guess I'm just a romantic.
• Thanks for your time. So long.
• Yep. Iron Legion, heart and soul. Give me an iron mallet and a couple tons of armored plating, and I'm happy.
• I should let you get back to work, then. Good-bye.
• It's like a battle arena. Only we fight not to the death, but to the finish line. Although we do have just about the same mortality rate.
• And are there spectators?
• Okay, I can tell you're dying to ask. Yes, it's me. Harran Ashtar, the fastest driver in the Circus Charricus.
• What is the Circus Charricus?
• A racer? What exactly do you drive?
• Never heard of you. Good-bye.
• This monstrosity of pure power. It runs on the most technologically advanced power source around—steam. At the end, I toss a little black powder into the boiler and roar to victory.
• Tell me about the Seven Reapers of Grenth.
• In the Circus Charricus, there are only two ways to finish a race. You can either win, or get blown to bits trying. I don't even want to think about the alternative.
• Then I hope you continue to win. Good-bye.
• So, what exactly is the Circus Charricus?
• Keep thinking good thoughts. Bye.
• It's like a battle arena. Only we fight not to the death, but to the finish line. Although we do have just about the same mortality rate.
• Perhaps I could come watch you race.
• At the moment, it's a closed arena. Just the lightning speed, the deafening roar, the dizzying rush of victory, and the metallic crush of defeat. No spectators.
• What do you race in?
• That's too bad. See you later, then.
• Then I wish you luck. So long.
• Well, good luck with your alloy. So long.
• Normally, yes. But I'm working on an alloy that, if layered in thin sheets, would be significantly lighter and stronger. It could make iron obsolete.
• Sound like good old Iron Legion ingenuity. Good luck.
• Best of luck to you. Bye.