"Oh, that?" She cleared her throat performatively, and then lowered her tone so that in the hollow of her helm it nearly echoed, "Thou who art Undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know."

It had a nice sound to it, she thought. There is, as they walk together, something of a self-satisfied little pause, when the pronouncement is done.

"That's an old saying, from Astora; I think I might be from there. Actually, there are two bells, so it isn't completely accurate, but then that's poetry for you."