Thórvilon greets you cautiously.

'Though you are an outsider, you have the look of someone capable. I am quite desperate, enough so that I would turn to a stranger for our salvation. This grove you see is dying. My people are dying. My wife... my wife is struggling. She is wearying, fading before my very eyes. I cannot bear it.

'These eyes have seen such sights. Countless miracles over thousands of years. Never did I think I would see such nightmares as these. The land cursed, the ground parched, forests as dry and white as bone. All my friends, all those I love, destined to fade and be forgotten.

'I will not fade so easily. I will not let this grove crumble to dust. That is not my path. Will you help me - will you help our people?'