: You... are remade. A new master. I bow to you.

: No harm is meant. This one waits and watches. This one serves.

Warrior: I shall stay my hand.

Witch: I like you already, pet. You serve {me} now.

: This one serves. This one has always served. Unchanging. The master changes, in Kulemak's absence. Amanamu. Ulaman. Kurgal. Never Tecrod. This one does not change. You are here. You are the master, until you are not here.

: You returned a Commander to The Well? Kulemak sees you, master. His call may soon echo forth...

: You are no Lich. You are no Lightless. What are you?

: Kulemak calls to you. Do you hear him? He waits below...

: Kulemak stirs below. Kulemak grows once more. Cast remains into the Well... his bones... his ancient flesh. He will reward you, as he rewards this one. The Source gives him power.

Warrior: All necromancers draw their power from this place?

Witch: How have I been channeling power from this place without even knowing it exists?

Sorceress: You're telling me every Necromancer that ever lived... even Saresh... drew their power from here?

Ranger: How did Necromancy come to be such a plague?

Huntress: Tell me of these Necromancers, creature.

Monk: I must know more about Necromancy. Tell me.

Mercenary: So all the pithy little Necromancers I've killed over the years... they got their juice from here?

: The Well was not. The Master Below All raged. Then, the Well was, and always had been. The more these ones fought and destroyed, the more souls spiraled into the Well. The nether exalted Kulemak. He rose, and walked the Boundless Cavern above, enduring the searing light and heat without pain. To wage the war, he gifted power to his servants, and they became the Lich Lords. The Lich Lords gifted power to their servants, and they became the Necromancers. These ones have been fighting so long, the Well spirals... the nether overflows... Countless screams blend into one endless exhale that can be heard even in the Boundless Cavern.

: You come from the Boundless Cavern. No stone in sight above, only fire and void. Hateful beings, spawned by flesh, skitter in the searing light. They seek to rend these ones. To destroy them. This one has never been. This one serves here. This one is frightened.

: Kulemak serves The Master Below All. The Lich Lords serve Kulemak. This one serves whoever is here... this one does not know more than that.

: You confuse this one, master. You destroy these ones, but not this one. Has this one served you well?

Warrior: It would not be honourable to slay you.

Witch: Of course, my pet. Don't you worry.

Sorceress: You are not my enemy. Just keep it that way.

Ranger: They attacked me first. That's all.

Huntress: Ah, I dunno. Just wouldn't feel right.

Monk: We each serve a master. It's not our fault.

Mercenary: You sure have. Don't think I'd want to be here alone...

: The edge beckons. The Source calls from below. Souls spiral, drawn by the call. All souls that return, all stilled flesh that yet moves. The Source gives motion, if not life.

Warrior: The undead... what are you saying?

Witch: That can't be true!

Sorceress: Do you speak of Necromancy?

Ranger: The heart of all that life abhors.

Huntress: You mean the risen dead?

Monk: You speak of undeath!

Mercenary: Ah shite, you mean the undead?

: It is so. The Well of Souls is the Source of all Necromancy.

: You know it is true, master. You draw upon the Source. You channel it through your soul.

Witch: No. My power is my own!

: All Necromancy flows from the Well of Souls; from the Source below. Look at the light, master. Look at its weave... its... colour...

Witch: The light of the nether... it's the same...

: Every corpse you animate... every bone you summon... every soul you command...

Witch: It's haunting. I never knew... I was born feeling this... call... this connection...

: Yes, master. Embrace Death. It is a gift... from the Source.

: You faced his Vessel. It pleased him. You will face him again. Yes.

Warrior: This Well... can it be explored? What does it contain?

Witch: Tell me, pet, what this place is.

Sorceress: Can this Well be destroyed?

Ranger: This Well is an abomination.

Huntress: What {is} this place?

: The Well is... ... {down.} From all places, all paths, it is still {down.} In time, all things spiral {down.} You, too, will be called. There is no obliviation. Only screaming. Forever.

Warrior: Greatwolf guard me...

Witch: That sounds deeply unpleasant.

Sorceress: Zarka's nightmares were true...

Ranger: I hope you're just being poetic...

Huntress: This is insane.

Monk: I sincerely hope that isn't true.

Mercenary: Bloody what mate? Nah, I'm good.