"monster_hunter_world.vdata"
{
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1000_RadiantCreeps_LocFieldNotes"		"When I first meet Frug the barbarian, he's sitting on a rock in a forest clearing, bandaging some pretty painful-looking blade wounds. Next to him are the bodies of a few creatures that appear to be made of wood. Or chopped wood after Frug got done with them.

<br/><br/>After I introduce myself, Frug explains he's hoping to become a hero. He says I can be the first to write of his exploits, starting with the aftermath of the battle he'd just fought and won.

<br/><br/>\"When yer lookin' to become a hero, these guys are a good way to get some practice in,\" the barbarian grunts. \"Even them proper heroes still whet their blades on 'em.

<br/><br/>\"An' here's the best part,\" he adds before leaning down and pilfering coins from the corpses he'd made.

<br/><br/>I point out that butchering victims and looting their bodies doesn't seem very heroic.  Frug scratches his chin and frowns.

<br/><br/>\"All heroes do it,\" he says, though he seems unconvinced of his own words. \"If all heroes do it, it can't be wrong. Can it?\"

<br/><br/>With that, he grunts again, snatches up his hefty axe, and tromps off into the forest."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1000_RadiantCreeps_LocNonHeroName"		"Radiant Creep"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1001_DireCreeps_LocFieldNotes"		"I'm in the Boar's Head, a small tavern in Hauptstadt, when Frug the barbarian strides in. Under his arm is a head wearing what appears to be a mask made of bone.

<br/><br/>\"Does this get me in HERE?\" he asks the barkeep angrily. \"'Cause every damn hero bar says it ain't enough.\"

<br/><br/>The barkeep warily tells Frug he's welcome to sit anywhere he likes. After the barbarian buys an ale and sits heavily at a small table, I decide to chance another meeting.

<br/><br/>\"Oh, it's you,\" he says. \"Yeah, I thought about what you said and decided not to go lookin' to kill any more of them tree guys. Not unless they start things.\"

<br/><br/>\"Now I just go after these guys.\"

<br/><br/>He grins proudly and points to the masked skull he'd brought into the bar. Both the mask and the wound where Frug had beheaded the thing are gruesome sights.

<br/><br/>\"An' they've got coin too,\" Frug smiles.

<br/><br/>I point out that killing <i>different</i> creatures and looting <i>their</i> corpses isn't a huge improvement over his earlier behavior.

<br/><br/>\"There's just no pleasin' some folks!\" the barbarian yells. \"Leave me to my drink!\"

<br/><br/>I do. There's no telling what Frug would do for the coin in my purse."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1001_DireCreeps_LocNonHeroName"		"Dire Creep"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1002_Courier_LocFieldNotes"		"Daz Cardle is shoveling dung left behind by one of the hundreds of small, sturdy pack donkeys grazing on the green grass in one of the many well-kept fields of Cardle's Courier Breedery. He spots me approaching, leans on his shovel, and mops his brow.

<br/><br/>\"You come lookin' for a courier?\" he asks. \"My customers are usually a good bit bigger'n you.\"

<br/><br/>I tell him I just want to ask about his business, and he happily agrees to a chat—provided I pick up a spare shovel and help him with his work.

<br/><br/>\"Always a demand for my couriers,\" he says, beaming with pride as he grabs another shovelful. \"Lucky for me, they breed like you wouldn't believe.\"

<br/><br/>Some customers come back several times in a single day, he tells me. He credits his success to two rules he never breaks: Make sure his pack animals are strong and healthy, and never ask what the buyer's going to use them for.

<br/><br/>He pets a courier and feeds it a morsel from his pocket. It's clear he cares about them. I don't mention what might happen to them after they're sold."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1002_Courier_LocNonHeroName"		"Courier"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1003_Tormentor_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Strange, ain't it?\" said Gren, squinting into the sunlight at the giant box, chained but somehow hovering just over a nearby ridge. \"Thing just showed up one day. No idea who put it there or why.\"

<br/><br/>The box was indeed strange. It floated high in the air, glowing, with a hazy circle around it. The farmers in Gren's village were perplexed when it appeared. Then they were afraid. And fear makes people do stupid things.

<br/><br/>\"My husband Shev, rest his soul, gathered up a buncha other farmers to take it down,\" she said. \"Shev never was worth a damn, but I hoped one the other fellas would figure it out.\"

<br/><br/>They didn't. Pitchforks, stones, hatchets, nothing they threw at it seemed to damage it. Worse, their attacks somehow wound up reflected back at them, killing the farmers themselves. Now Gren tends to her crops alone. And as for the cube?

<br/><br/>\"It ain't hurting no one,\" she said. \"Well, 'cept those idiots who tried to hurt it. Plus, it got rid of Shev for me, so it ain't all bad.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1003_Tormentor_LocNonHeroName"		"Tormentor"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1004_Roshan_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Roshan? Oh, he can be killed all right,\" boasted the grizzled warrior Barrios. He used his one remaining arm to turn the spit on which he was roasting a hare. \"But lemme tell you, he doesn't go down easy.\"

<br/><br/>Barrios was once a member of the Scarlet Five, a notorious band of sellswords who had been hired by Krimwohl city council to slay the ancient creature. A deadly force, they'd struck quickly, but Roshan had struck back harder. Only two of the Scarlet Five escaped the creature's pit, one wounded beyond repair. Roshan survived.

<br/><br/>When a battered, craftier Barrios returned to Krimwohl, this time he gathered a much larger contingent of warriors, mages, and heroes. The promise of glory, Roshan's treasures, and a generous bounty from Krimwohl's coffers steadied their steps. Still, it took every last spell and blade to finally fell the beast. Barrios' sword arm was the least of their losses.

<br/><br/>\"But it turns out he's not called Roshan the damned Immortal for nothing,\" the warrior sighed. \"By the time we got back to Krimwohl, he'd reappeared as though we'd never scratched a scale on his body.

<br/><br/>\"Never did get that bounty,\" he grumbled, stirring the fire."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1004_Roshan_LocNonHeroName"		"Roshan"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_100_Tusk_LocFieldNotes"		"\"You would be no challenge for me,\" chortled Tusk when I first tapped him on the shoulder. \"I won't fight you, little elf. No sport in it.\"

<br/><br/>Perhaps foolishly, I'd interrupted his drinking as he sat in a raucous beerhall in the frosty city of Cobalt. His eyes darted this way and that as he clenched and unclenched one gauntleted fist. The other hand didn't drift far from the massive stein before him.

<br/><br/>When I explained I didn't come looking for a fight, that I hoped to write of his exploits, he bellowed with laughter.

<br/><br/>\"Why bother? Everyone knows Tusk's exploits already,\" he said as he pounded the table for another ale. \"Best fighter in Frozen Realm. Best fighter anywhere.\"

<br/><br/>That caught the ear of a nearby troll, who guffawed and stood to face Tusk. That was a bad idea. Quicker that you'd expect, the beastly brawler stood. Even quicker, he punched his opponent hard enough that I heard seven distinct cracking sounds, which I don't think a single troll skull is supposed to make. The once-boisterous crowd was silent. Tusk looked around for another challenger. Any other challenger. I couldn't tell if he looked expectant, or desperate. Either way, none came.

<br/><br/>\"No good fights here,\" Tusk grumbled, disappointed. And with that, he curled into a white ball and rolled out into the cold."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_100_Tusk_LocHeroName"		"Tusk"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_101_SkywrathMage_LocFieldNotes"		"If I were to choose one word to describe the mage known as Dragonus, it would be \"impressive\" — though \"humorless\" would be a decent second choice.

<br/><br/>He's guarding the Nest of Thorns in the Ghastly Eyrie when I ask for a moment of his time. He refuses to reply, and a helpful passerby suggests I return for the changing of the guard seven hours later. When I finally return, he's being relieved by a burly flightless bird called Grackle.

<br/><br/>\"The flightless are as competent, as respected, as the high-born,\" he sniffs, though he says it as though his mouth isn't used to the lie yet.

<br/><br/>Dragonus, the Skywrath Mage, marches officiously as he speaks. It appears he never considers himself off-duty. At the very least, he spends his leisure time speaking only of duty.

<br/><br/>\"Guarding the queen is the highest calling to which one can aspire,\" he tells me.

<br/><br/>\"The true queen,\" he clarifies. \"The Ghastly Eyrie is now governed by its rightful ruler,\" his voice booms through the Eyrie's majestic halls. And this time I believe him. For the first time, I catch a twinkle in his eye and the faintest hint of a proud smile."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_101_SkywrathMage_LocHeroName"		"Skywrath Mage"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_102_Abaddon_LocFieldNotes"		"I never got near the Font of Avernus. Few do. It's no courtyard fountain, but a fissure under the keep, bleeding mist thick and black as squid ink.

<br/><br/>Breathe it in, they say, and you get strange powers and visions. They also say the enigmatic Lord Abaddon's inhaled so much of it he's more mist than man. So, to know the mystery, know the mist. Problem is, the priests guarding it have to let you in, and they don't.

<br/><br/>So I did the next best thing: I spoke with those who had gotten in.

<br/><br/>One cleaning woman caught a whiff; she hasn't slept since, just dreams her own death on repeat. A knight once granted a \"taste\" now punches the keep gates bloody, begging for more.

<br/><br/>What's it like? From their accounts: cold and ... aware. Like a stranger rifling through your brain, sometimes leaving something shiny behind.

<br/><br/>As for Abaddon? What he gets out of it is between him and the mist. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_102_Abaddon_LocHeroName"		"Abaddon"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_103_ElderTitan_LocFieldNotes"		"High on a jagged, sun-baked mesa in the Chaos Wastes, I stumbled under a rocky overhang for shade. To my surprise, already sheltered there was a series of murals, the pigment as cracked and ancient as the landscape.

<br/><br/>At first glance, they read like a creation myth. The oldest painted images show titanic figures shaping mountains and pouring out oceans, as though the universe itself were clay. 

<br/><br/>Then the greatest among the figures shatters the world—apparently by accident. Over and over, later drawings done by various hands show him painstakingly patching the pieces back together with fragments lifted from who knows where. Meanwhile, tiny figures scurry along the edges, perhaps the artists themselves. I traced one of the drawings with my finger. The mesa shivered. Probably a coincidence.

<br/><br/>And then it dawned on me: This wasn't a creation myth, but a warning. Whoever these painters were, or whatever happened to them, their message survives perfectly intact across the millennia: DANGER: CONSTRUCTION ZONE. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_103_ElderTitan_LocHeroName"		"Elder Titan"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_104_LegionCommander_LocFieldNotes"		"Stonehall's majestic Imperial Palace towers over the rest of the city, meticulous new stonework patching over the sections that had been razed by the Abyssal Horde years earlier. Also new: a hefty iron fence surrounding the structure.

<br/><br/>Emperor Galanius is busy (emperor-speak for \"too important to talk to a scribe\") but the palace's Steward, an officious man named Lorath, offers me a sliver of time.

<br/><br/>\"The city is still in the process of rebuilding years later,\" he drones. \"But there would have been nothing to rebuild, no one to rebuild it, were it not for Tresdin.\"

<br/><br/>As Commander of the city's vaunted Bronze Legion, Tresdin had been pivotal in driving back the demons that had laid siege to the city. With the Legion faltering, she challenged the Abyssal leader to combat. Against seemingly insurmountable odds, she had won.

<br/><br/>\"With their leader vanquished, the horde was sent back to the Abyss,\" Lorath says.

<br/><br/>He added that he'd seen her fight fierce foes one-on-one and drive back entire patrols of invaders. From his vantage point high up in the tower, of course.

<br/><br/>\"She's gone seeking vengeance on those who ruined our city, but should Stonehall ever need a defender, Tresdin will be here.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_104_LegionCommander_LocHeroName"		"Legion Commander"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_105_Techies_LocFieldNotes"		"Muffled, distant explosions grew louder as I trudged through the Ruelands. Scorch marks and craters across the sandy terrain also led the way. As it turns out, hiring a guide to find the Keen known as Techies had been unnecessary—a good thing, since the one I'd taken on had stepped on a mine and blown up a mile back.

<br/><br/>Finally, I came across them as they fiddled with wires attached to a large wooden crate with powder leaking from the sides.

<br/><br/>\"Hey, you wanna see something go boom?\" squeaked the biggest of the bunch.

<br/><br/>\"If not, you'd better look the other way,\" grumbled the scrawny, cigar-chomping one.

<br/><br/>I explained that I'd be delighted to see an explosion, provided they answered a few questions for me first.

<br/><br/>\"This usually answers all the questions,\" said the scrawny one, lobbing a rusty metal ball over a dune. The explosion set them into paroxysms of laughter.

<br/><br/>I soldiered on, asking what made them join the battle for the ancients.

<br/><br/>\"Wot's an ancient?\" came a voice from a barrel on the big one's back."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_105_Techies_LocHeroName"		"Techies"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_106_EmberSpirit_LocFieldNotes"		"\"You are no warrior,\" the blazing warrior Xin said, his voice deep and tranquil.

<br/><br/>I explained hesitantly that in fact I was not. I'd actually wandered the Wailing Mountains for days seeking the Fortress of Flares not to learn how to fight, but to learn more about <i>him</i>. Luckily, Xin the Ember Spirit didn't take offense.

<br/><br/>\"Knowledge is also vital,\" he said, bidding me to sit with him. \"To nourish our minds.\"

<br/><br/>I kept some distance. He wasn't malicious, but he still radiated uncomfortable heat.

<br/><br/>Xin spoke of how, in his human form, he'd studied both as a warrior and a poet. Through wisdom and strength, he'd mastered the obscure fighting art known as the Bonds of the Guardian Flame. He then sought to teach them to others. It didn't take long for word to spread to the wrong ears.

<br/><br/>\"I was no match. Too many hunted me,\" he explained.

<br/><br/>They killed Xin, but his life's work had inspired the Burning Celestial, who brought him back as Ember Spirit. Xin went on to explain the wisdom of flame. His words were like a burning fire themselves: impossible to grasp, but unwise to ignore."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_106_EmberSpirit_LocHeroName"		"Ember Spirit"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_107_EarthSpirit_LocFieldNotes"		"Kaolin sits cross-legged on a verdant highland bluff overlooking a lean corundum mine. Scratching a baby Archtyrex stryder's chin, his gentleness seems at odds with his bulk. Yet somehow, it's exactly what you'd expect.

<br/><br/>As we talk, he uses an unseen force to zigzag a stone for the stryderling to chase after. It is certifiably adorable.

<br/><br/>He'd once been a great general whose exploits were memorialized in stone. But the jade that coursed through the ground also bore the earth's spirit. It infused that spirit into the statue of Kaolin. Now known as Earth Spirit, he has an awareness that transcends his stony form.			 

<br/><br/>\"My knowledge flows from the primal forces that formed this land to the trench bones of the seas,\" he tells me. 

<br/><br/>His new purpose: \"Protect the unprotected. Destroy that which only lives to destroy.\"

<br/><br/>As I stand to stretch, my patch of the bluff collapses suddenly. I fall, screaming more than a little, and praying to every god I can think of. But then, my descent slowly reverses, until I come face to face with Kaolin again.

<br/><br/>\"We all come from earth, but today you shall not return to it,\" he tells me, smiling.

<br/><br/>I thank him profusely and, done with cliffs for the day, leave him to his meditations. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_107_EarthSpirit_LocHeroName"		"Earth Spirit"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_108_Underlord_LocFieldNotes"		"Even after years of reconstruction, there are still entire districts in Stonehall left in ruins by the Abyssal Horde. I was not surprised to learn that these were poorer districts, the ones without wealthy merchants or ambitious nobles hoping to be praised as saviors. But I've long believed that bitter people have the best memories, so it's to those neighborhoods I headed.

<br/><br/>Residents were more than eager to talk, including mutilated soldiers lucky enough to have survived that battle. With great disdain, they spoke of the arrogance of the Bronze Legion, and the Legion's ludicrous decision to tell citizens to remain in their homes. They understood their mistake when Vrogros the Underlord, larger than any armored wagon, clawed through the city walls as though they were made of paper.

<br/><br/>They said the abyssal Underlord shrugged off swords, arrows and ballista alike. When they struck the thing, one said, \"it sounded like steel scraping against stone.\"

<br/><br/>Then Vrogros opened a portal. And, to a man, none of the soldiers dared continue the story further. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_108_Underlord_LocHeroName"		"Underlord"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_109_Terrorblade_LocFieldNotes"		"Contained by sigils and candles, the purple imp hovers above the pentagram a money-grubbing sorcerer had rented to me for the next hour. Having cast his summoning spell, the sorcerer had left to deal with other customers.

<br/><br/>My Ozkavosh isn't perfect, but cusses have a way of standing out in any language. Eventually the imp tells me why hellkind fears Terrorblade so gravely. 

<br/><br/>Even the Demon Lords he'd stolen from wouldn't go up against him alone. They formed an infernal pact to go after him united. They sent the combined might of their Rage Guards, yet none returned. 

<br/><br/>Surging with power after drinking their diabolical life forces, Terrorblade couldn't be defeated. He could only be portaled into Foulfell, a prison known as the Hell of Hells. But even that couldn't hold him for long.

<br/><br/>The imp's about to show me a mirrored shard he'd stolen from Foulfell's ruins after Terrorblade had obliterated it. But then I sneeze and blow out the tapers, banishing him (hopefully—it's possible I freed him.) It's just as well. He'd been pressuring me to sign a bunch of things I hadn't bothered to read, and he'd been pretty close to getting my signature. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_109_Terrorblade_LocHeroName"		"Terrorblade"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_10_Morphling_LocFieldNotes"		"\"The mayor will see you now,\" the assistant rasps, pointing to an oak door on the north side of the sitting room where I've been waiting.

<br/><br/>The small village of Roseneath was the last to report a sighting of the enigmatic being known only as Morphling. It was sparsely populated—I never saw more than one person at a time.

<br/><br/>I walk through the door into a lavender-scented room as the mayor enters her chamber from another door to the east. We shake hands. Hers is sweaty.

<br/><br/>\"Do not ask too many questions about Morphling,\" she warns in a surprisingly low voice.

<br/><br/>The creature had arrived days ago and was instantly attacked by fearful villagers. He defended himself, but was careful not to do harm, the mayor says. Eventually, they realized he meant no harm and stopped fighting.

<br/><br/>\"Water under the bridge,\" the mayor says. \"Now, I have other business to attend to.\"

<br/><br/>She makes her way back toward the door from which she'd entered. She opens it and I see bodies inside. Dozens of them, bloated, drowned. The mayor's face shimmers and, to my horror, transforms into my own."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_10_Morphling_LocHeroName"		"Morphling"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_110_Phoenix_LocFieldNotes"		"I'd been to three towns that Phoenix was said to have visited, but so far, nothing was rising from any ashes that I could talk to. Even though I wasn't seeing any Phoenix from following its footsteps, however, I was getting plenty of ashes. Entire cities worth, from wooden beams to crumbling granite. As for where all the people had gone—well, amongst all the larger building-sized ashpiles were lots of smaller piles of ash in the street, so I had a guess. It looked like I wasn't getting any interviews. I'd have to get academic. 

<br/><br/>So I'm 19 floors down in the Violet Archives when I find the dossier the scavenger crew had told me about—bound papers with a cover etching of Phoenix. It's inside a thick-walled and unliftable box, made of a smoky diamond-like stone and streaked with scorch marks along all its sides. 

<br/><br/>The dossier begins with hypotheses about minimum safe distances and which exotic minerals from which realms might contain the flaming bird. Most of the dossier's incomprehensible—scrawled symbols and numbers next to phrases like \"combustion rate\" and \"incandescence quotient\" on burned pages.

<br/><br/>The box had been found, miraculously intact, in the middle of a glass crater in a field of hardened molten rock. I'm guessing the researchers might have misjudged that minimum safe distance. Nice work on the box, though. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_110_Phoenix_LocHeroName"		"Phoenix"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_111_Oracle_LocFieldNotes"		"It is often said that fortune favors the bold. But as the Advisors of Cymurri realized as they faced their ultimate destruction, fortune actually favors whoever it chooses.

<br/><br/>Nerif the Oracle was the latest in a long line of oracles serving the Graven King, but instead of predicting the future as the others had, he seemed to have a way of shaping it. Hell-bent on conquering new lands, the Last Graven King believed Nerif to be a secret weapon. With someone who could bend reality's will under his command, he would never lose another battle.

<br/><br/>Until one day, Nerif refused to predict victory.

<br/><br/>\"I simply told the King it could go either way,\" his voice hummed in my head.

<br/><br/>And go either way it did. Soldiers both died and lived, simultaneously. The battle was won and lost at the same time. Reality split in two, as did the combatants' minds. Then they split again. And again.

<br/><br/>Did Nerif shape that future, creating infinite conflicting realities to destroy the Graven King and free himself? It seems he himself does not know.

<br/><br/>\"I see not the past. Only the future,\" he said.

<br/><br/>As to what he sees my future holding... given the fate of his past master, I'd rather not know. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_111_Oracle_LocHeroName"		"Oracle"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_112_WinterWyvern_LocFieldNotes"		"\"It's impossible to pick just one,\" I lie.

<br/><br/>Auroth had asked me whether I've read her work, and when I lied and said I had, she asked which of her poems was my favorite.

<br/><br/>I had to lie. I hadn't trekked across the barren tundra of Icewrack just to offend the Winter Wyvern and have her freeze me to death. (I'd be freezing to death without her help anyway, if I didn't find a fire soon.)

<br/><br/>I also can't very well tell her I'd avoided her poetry because the reviews were scathing. Sadly, Auroth's skills are on the battlefield, as much as she might wish to believe otherwise.

<br/><br/>\"We should collaborate,\" she hisses hopefully. \"It's so rare to get a fellow auteur around here.\"

<br/><br/>While her demeanor is warm, her breath chills me to the bone. I nod forcefully so as to distinguish it from my shivering.

<br/><br/>She grins toothily, her leathery wings creaking as she stretches them the breadth of her expansive library. She winks. \"Excellent,\" she says, before taking flight out of a massive window. \"Why don't I give us something impressive to write about?\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_112_WinterWyvern_LocHeroName"		"Winter Wyvern"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_113_ArcWarden_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Self's siblings know not what despair they cause,\" says the timeless being standing by my side.

<br/><br/>Zet the Arc Warden and I are standing by stone pillars, hacked and scorched. A pool between them—ringed with blood and viscera—glows, albeit faintly.

<br/><br/>Zet takes a moment to survey the damage. A profound sense of disappointment pierces what had seemed to be a bottomless stoicism.

<br/><br/>He explains that he was once part of a greater whole he calls \"the Unity.\" When the universe was created, that greater whole was somehow shattered, two of its fragments—Zet's \"siblings\" Dire and Radiant—vying to lay claim to the cosmos and bend all of existence to serve their needs.

<br/><br/>\"This must not be permitted,\" he warns. \"Self has captured self's siblings before. Self will do so again.\"

<br/><br/>Only by containing the warring sides, he says, can harmony once again return to the cosmos. And if he fails?

<br/><br/>\"Disharmony cannot prevail,\" he says. \"Neither sibling can prevail. All must be united. Or else all must be destroyed.\"

<br/><br/>I would pray to the gods that Zet succeeds in reforging the Unity. Except I was just talking to one, and it looked like he was already taking care of it."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_113_ArcWarden_LocHeroName"		"Arc Warden"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_114_MonkeyKing_LocFieldNotes"		"While the gods have boundless power, they are not blessed with limitless patience. Not that Sun Wukong cared. For the Monkey King, creating chaos was its own reward—one for which he had paid his debt.

<br/><br/>I had hoped to ask him about his penance, half a millennium pinned under a mountain after he'd annoyed the gods a little too much, but Sun Wukong was even slipperier than the stories implied.

<br/><br/>A glimpse of him nestled between the leafy branches atop a tall tree. Then a sighting of him gamboling across a forest lea before completely vanishing into a tiny copse of trees that I swear hadn't been there a moment earlier. Was it all an illusion? A delusion?

<br/><br/>And always, always, an army of damned monkeys, hooting, cackling, grabbing at my notes and stealing all my gods-damned pencils before bounding off. At least they refrained from throwing feces. Except that one, and I think he only did it because he knew it bothered me.

<br/><br/>It was frankly exhausting, and after just a few days in the field, I had to admit: I was beaten. If the Monkey King exasperated the divine, what hope did I have?"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_114_MonkeyKing_LocHeroName"		"Monkey King"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_119_DarkWillow_LocFieldNotes"		"The race track in White Spire is half-filled with drunken reprobates of every stripe, cheering or cursing as the couriers race around the course.

<br/><br/>Near the front, I find Mireska Sunbreeze, the Dark Willow, watching the event coolly, a betting slip in hand. She sees me eyeing her and flutters over.

<br/><br/>\"Dangerous place for someone like you,\" she says, her voice lilting, but with an edge. \"Better watch ye don't get yerself knifed.\"

<br/><br/>I stammer out that she was actually who I had come to find. As I do, a small wisp floats over to her and hands her a coin, which she accepts with a wink.

<br/><br/>\"Not much to say, really,\" Mireska says. \"My parents were dullards and killjoys—the less said there, the better—so I set off on my own.\"

<br/><br/>The wisp brings her another coin.

<br/><br/>\"The thing about this world is, ye have to make yer own fun,\" she winks again.

<br/><br/>Now, the wisp brings her a full coin purse. A familiar coin purse. I reach for my belt and find mine gone. By the time I look back to where Mireska was a moment ago, she's gone too."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_119_DarkWillow_LocHeroName"		"Dark Willow"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_11_ShadowFiend_LocFieldNotes"		"The Knights of the Basalt Plains are a proud and noble order. They're also, it turns out, tragically understaffed. Known for tirelessly clearing the Fields of Carnage of undead and demons, I'm shocked at how few of them there are.

<br/><br/>\"Hail and well met,\" says their field general, Endalor, as he strides out across the fallow plains to meet me at the edge of their encampment. \"I trust thine journey was uneventful?\"

<br/><br/>After an abundance of formalities, I ask him about Nevermore the Shadow Fiend. His cocksure demeanor falters before he regains himself.

<br/><br/>\"'T'was a battle the likes of which I hope never to see again,\" he said. \"We set upon the foul fiend from all angles. Alas, his shadowy form repelled all manner of assault.\"

<br/><br/>Endalor spoke of how man after man fell, Nevermore claiming their souls one after another. A hundred men went up against him. The dozen knights clinging to this small encampment are all that survived.

<br/><br/>\"Mine oath forbids me from prevaricating,\" his head drops. \"The abomination drove us back. He remains the one foe we've yet to vanquish.

<br/><br/>\"He remains the one foe we hope ne'er to encounter again.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_11_ShadowFiend_LocHeroName"		"Shadow Fiend"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_120_Pangolier_LocFieldNotes"		"The locals at a quaint pub in White Spire were regaling me with tales of Donté Panlin's exploits when the famed swashbuckler himself showed up.

<br/><br/>\"I was told you were asking about me,\" he purred with a wink and a tip of his hat. \"What they did not tell me is how STUNNING you are. Donté Panlin, at your service.\"

<br/><br/>He bowed deeply, took my hand and kissed it before sliding into the seat across from mine. It wouldn't be excessive to say the others at the table swooned.

<br/><br/>\"You perhaps want to hear about the time I felled a giant?\" Panlin crowed. \"Or the other time I felled a giant? Dragons? Demons? Despots?\"

<br/><br/>He mimed great battles as he unfurled countless painstakingly detailed stories of monarchs rescued, villages saved, monsters defeated, each more elaborate than the last. I'd heard several of the stories already, and Donté's versions veered between \"wild exaggeration\" and \"outright falsehood.\"

<br/><br/>It's clear the Pangolier has his share of admirers. But no one admires Donté Panlin more than Donté Panlin."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_120_Pangolier_LocHeroName"		"Pangolier"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_121_Grimstroke_LocFieldNotes"		"In Ashkavor's lifeless central temple lies a runestone blackened with dried ink and old sins, the sort of artifact that quietly screams, \"Bad things happened here.\"

<br/><br/>Actually, a sacred ritual used to happen: Initiates painted it with magic ink to join their souls to the people, becoming Ascended Ones.

<br/><br/>Until Grimstroke saw opportunity where others saw only tradition. He upgraded the ink, seeking to enhance its powers and, by extension, his own. Anyone caught in the process brought it on themselves.

<br/><br/>That's how he rewrites history. Now strip off the coats of self-aggrandizing spin.

<br/><br/>Hungry to ascend higher, he spiked his inks with forbidden ichor. Bad idea—it was forbidden for a reason. He saved his skin by turning all of Ashkavor into monstrous shadows, crossing out his entire civilization with a single stroke.

<br/><br/>Those are the basic facts. I'm sure he'd love for me to gush about his grandiose designs to redraw the world in his image. I won't. Enough ink has been spilled on Grimstroke's behalf already. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_121_Grimstroke_LocHeroName"		"Grimstroke"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_123_Hoodwink_LocFieldNotes"		"Every guide near the Wood Tomo'kan gave me the same warning: Don't try to find Hoodwink. So I didn't. Instead, I let Hoodwink find me. Making camp, I laid out some snares I'd acquired from Rattletrap to stop less clever predators and, theoretically, to trick Hoodwink into thinking that she was dealing with a dimwit. Even before I could pretend to fall asleep, a flying acorn tore bark away from the oak above my head.

<br/><br/>She was smaller than I'd expected, her crossbow nearly as large as herself. Yet she held it with more authority than any trained member of the Bronze Legion.

<br/><br/>\"No one traps in MY forest,\" she sneered.

<br/><br/>I calmly confessed my subterfuge and requested an interview. She was happy to talk, alright. She talked about the food she took from my bag. She talked about the gold she stole from my pouch. And she talked about the directions to leave the Wood Tomo'kan before she changed her mind. She handed my snares back, chopped to pieces. It was frankly more than I expected. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_123_Hoodwink_LocHeroName"		"Hoodwink"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_126_VoidSpirit_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Your reality is fleeting,\" says Inai the Void Spirit, who's done me the favor of traveling to my own home for an interview. It's a welcome gesture, though effortless for him.

<br/><br/>\"It is but one of infinite realities, folding and unfolding both separately and unto one another.\"

<br/><br/>It's the most sense he's made in the hours we've been talking, at least to my ears. If I ask him to paraphrase or clarify, he simply looks at me, expressionless.

<br/><br/>What I've been able to glean is that Inai travels through realities, aiming to ensure they don't stray from their preordained pasts. But he doesn't care to talk about himself; he's more interested in existence as a whole. His words would no doubt confound the greatest thinkers (and I'm not one of them.) \"Mm hmm,\" I say, doodling in my notebook.

<br/><br/>After a particularly long monologue, he asks, \"Did you get all that?\"

<br/><br/>I lie and say I did. His stoic countenance turns skeptical. \"Repeat it back to me.\" 

<br/><br/>I give it my best shot from memory. \"Uh... you were saying existence is just... an iterative recursion of ontological... frameworks, I think... and they're collapsing under their own... was it epistemic? Epistemic illusions? Delusions?\"

<br/><br/>With a snort, he opens a portal beneath him and disappears into it. Where to, I couldn't even guess.

<br/><br/>Epistemic <i>contradictions</i>. That was it."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_126_VoidSpirit_LocHeroName"		"Void Spirit"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_128_Snapfire_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Makin' things that blow up yer enemies, that ain't hard. Git down, Mortimer,\" says Beatrix Snapfire.

<br/><br/>We're sitting in her ramshackle shed in the middle of the searing desert of Nanarak, surrounded by half-built contraptions made using half-broken tools. I point out that the exploded sheds of her neighbors would suggest making ordnance isn't as easy as she claims.

<br/><br/>\"It's easy for anyone with a lick of sense,\" she corrects herself. \"Down, Mortimer. More tea, dear?\"

<br/><br/>Her giant pet finally stops licking my face long enough for me to decline her offer. The tea's a bit peppery for my taste. Still better than the cookies, which were FAR too peppery for my taste.

<br/><br/>\"Folks 'round here, they ain't got much sense,\" Beatrix shakes her head. \"Lucky for them, they got me an' Mortimer. Mortimer, DOWN!\"

<br/><br/>With that, she starts welding a long metal pipe to some rusted piece of scrap that somehow looks even older than her.

<br/><br/>\"What they all forget is, powder goes in LAST,\" she tuts as an explosion rocks the near distance."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_128_Snapfire_LocHeroName"		"Snapfire"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_129_Mars_LocFieldNotes"		"\"I used to be impudent,\" booms Mars, the ancient God of War from atop his majestic golden throne. \"I was cocky. I waged war just to see the terrified faces of mortals as I ran them through with my spear.\"

<br/><br/>If his resplendent throne room today is a sign of a more humble Mars, he must have been insufferably arrogant before. Massive tapestries hang from every wall, each celebrating him as the victor in an epic battle meant to dwarf the epic battles on all the other tapestries. Dozens of statues compete for real estate, each illustrating the war god in a heroic mid-blow fight pose, which makes it look like he's endlessly fighting other versions of himself in some of the more cramped corners.

<br/><br/>Mars speaks of how he no longer lets his most basic impulses lead him into battle. He no longer covets the fear and respect of mortals. But that won't stop him from spreading war.

<br/><br/>\"War is necessary,\" his voice reverberates through the massive chamber. \"It demonstrates who is worthy.\"

<br/><br/>The old gods, he says, have grown complacent and weak. With his newfound humility and responsibility, therefore, he has decided he must suffer the burden of ruling over all he sees with an iron fist.

<br/><br/>\"Before, I thought I should be King of the Gods because I was cocky and foolish,\" he admits. \"Now, I see I <i>must</i> be... because I am sensible.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_129_Mars_LocHeroName"		"Mars"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_12_PhantomLancer_LocFieldNotes"		"Azwraith watched the gentle rush of the river, his grip on his spear as strong as if he were in battle. But he had no interest in speaking of the spearcraft he had employed in the battle against the Dread Magus Vorn. 

<br/><br/>Given that he alone among his people had survived the brutal onslaught, I couldn't blame him. He dismissed my question with a simple \"we had no interest in the wars of others. Until they brought their wars to us.\"

<br/><br/>With that, he focused again on the water and the abundant fish swimming in it. He told me which were edible and which were poisonous, which would catch easy and which would fight back. I hadn't come for a lesson in ichthyology, but changing the subject proved pointless.

<br/><br/>And so I decided to enjoy the calm of the day. I had nearly nodded off when I saw Azwraith tease the water clumsily with his weapon, scaring all the fish off in a terrified school to the opposite bank. I was beginning to think he might not be meant for the simple life of a fisherman... until a copy of himself appeared on the opposite bank, spearing three of the ones he'd singled out as the most edible with a single jab. They were <i>deliciously</i> edible, as it turned out, and we feasted that night by the fire. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_12_PhantomLancer_LocHeroName"		"Phantom Lancer"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_131_Ringmaster_LocFieldNotes"		"To call the blacksmith a slab of a man would be a disservice to slabs, yet here's this giant, chest heaving from sobs. We sit in the junk-filled workshop where he crafts replacement parts for Ringmaster.

<br/><br/>\"First I said no, flat out. Then he brought out that damn wheel. Next thing I know, I'm handing him those blasted gears and me an' my son are packed in a crowded tent for his 'show.' \"

<br/><br/>Shaking, he unbandages his left foot, pulped from a crowd participation act called \"Blade or Bludgeon.\" But what really sets him off is talk of his boy, who Cogliostro had volunteered for a disappearing act. Said he'd release him from \"The Box\" if the smith's gears worked. 

<br/><br/>I guess they did. There's a knock at the door as a tiny voice calls, \"papa?\" The smith limps swiftly to the door and flings it open. What stands there is more mechanism than boy. Exposed gears whir, springs sproing, small bellows heave. The smith's own handiwork, used to torment him further.

<br/><br/>\"Cogliostro told me to watch over you,\" the abomination chirps, its head cocking mechanically to the side.

<br/><br/>The smith weeps. And yeah, so do I. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_131_Ringmaster_LocHeroName"		"Ringmaster"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_135_Dawnbreaker_LocFieldNotes"		"Normally, being told to \"walk toward the light\" would make me roll my eyes and ask to talk to someone with a little less flair for dramatic poetry and a little more actual information. But in the case of Valora, the Dawnbreaker, that was the closest the villagers near the Nightsilver Woods had.

<br/><br/>She had entered that dark forest mere days before, and witnesses miles away had claimed to see bright balls of light appear above the trees.

<br/><br/>Fortunately for this dispatch, this wasn't just another exaggeration from wide-eyed villagers hoping to see their name in print. The gloom of the Nightsilver Woods made it all the easier to follow the bright flashes. Not to mention the ever-increasing cacophony of Valora's hammer smashing wood, stone, and foe alike. 

<br/><br/>Before I went blind—thankfully, only for a week—I briefly saw her: A living star,  shattering the encroaching darkness through sheer force of will.

<br/><br/>Too much darkness is a bad thing, I think we're all agreed in banishing some of it. But banishing all the darkness? Just sheer, blinding brightness all the time? I got a mere second of her utopia, and my retinas would disagree. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_135_Dawnbreaker_LocHeroName"		"Dawnbreaker"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_136_Marci_LocFieldNotes"		"I'd been told that Marci didn't talk, which only made me want to meet her all the more. Believe me, it's a rare thing in this world to have a reputation like Marci's without the oafish boasting that comes with it.

<br/><br/>Fortunately, acquaintances of hers were more than happy to speak on her behalf in exchange for a few coins. We met in the Nightsilver Woods, unfurling their recollections as Marci paced nearby, diligently watching the trees for the return of her charge, Princess Mirana. Each had a story, all of which they claimed to have seen first hand, all more fantastical than the last. With her bare fists, or so they said, Marci had killed bandits, armies, and even the occasional god.

<br/><br/>Given Marci's unassuming appearance, I suspected this was all nonsense. That is, until Marci whistled. By the time I turned my head, she was bounding purposefully into the woods. Her acquaintances promised there was no need to follow, and so we waited. Soon Marci returned covered in blood, walking with a spotless Princess Mirana at her side. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_136_Marci_LocHeroName"		"Marci"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_137_PrimalBeast_LocFieldNotes"		"Some suggest that Primal Beast is only a baby. Surveying the wreckage around the now-former fishing village of Andujar, it certainly bears the markings of a massive infant's temper tantrum. The devastation, though, hints at a malice a baby couldn't comprehend.

<br/><br/>Entire buildings bashed to rubble, docks smashed to splinters, entire boats dashed to bits on the shore. No obvious rhyme or reason behind the rampage. The villagers? Gone. I only hope they fled instead of being devoured.

<br/><br/>Either way, add Andujar to a growing list of colonies Primal Beast has wiped off the map. There had been a brief reprieve when the creature had been lured into a trap and bound by the Gleipnir, a mystical chain designed to hold godly creatures. But you can't hold a beast this powerful, this raging, for long. Now it stomps the lands untethered.

<br/><br/>As I survey the damage, I can't help but think: If Primal Beast is only a baby, gods help us if its parents ever show up."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_137_PrimalBeast_LocHeroName"		"Primal Beast"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_138_Muerta_LocFieldNotes"		"The owner of the dilapidated, sun-bleached inn mopped his brow. Even in the shade provided by the empty establishment standing alone in the middle of the desolate, dusty plains, it was scorching hot.

<br/><br/>\"She came from an old town called Skirm, which used to stand just over yonder,\" he said. \"She was just a young'un.\"

<br/><br/>\"Bandits used to frequent these parts. Real mean types. Robbed every town for miles around. Gunned her down in cold blood. Killed her kin, too.\"

<br/><br/>He poured us each another shot of some smoky liquid that burned my throat but loosened his tongue. So long as he kept talking, I'd keep choking it down.

<br/><br/>\"And then...well, no one knows what then,\" he glanced furtively around before continuing. \"I hear she beat Death himself. Hear she's looking for payback against them who done her wrong.\"

<br/><br/>He mopped his brow again, but this time it wasn't due to the heat. The man was pale as a ghost.

<br/><br/>\"Them bandits was a ruthless, vicious bunch,\" he whispered hoarsely. \"Gods, I pity 'em.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_138_Muerta_LocHeroName"		"Muerta"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_13_Puck_LocFieldNotes"		"Enormous multicolored butterflies flutter among the shimmering leaves of Faeshade Forest in southwestern Revtel. I'm transfixed by their flighted dance when the Faerie Dragon known as Puck appears out of nowhere over my right shoulder.

<br/><br/>\"Curious creature,\" it says, its voice halting and stilted as though mimicking words it only half-understands. \"What sort of being are you?\"

<br/><br/>Before I can answer, Puck is flitting in circles around a particularly large vermillion moth, giggling. I watch for a moment, then it blinks out of view, then reappears over my left shoulder.

<br/><br/>\"I asked you what sort of being you are,\" Puck repeats, a hint of an edge to its voice. Faerie Dragons are said to live longer than entire worlds. It appears that doesn't lend them patience.

<br/><br/>\"I'm a wood elf,\" I stammer. It reaches one of its four three-fingered hands out and probes my face. The fingers are air-soft and smell of wildflowers and sulfur.

<br/><br/>\"It does not feel as though you are made of wood,\" comes its reply. Its smile doesn't offer any clues as to whether it's joking or accusing me of lying.

<br/><br/>Puck blinks away again. The butterflies disperse, and with that, the forest is deathly silent."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_13_Puck_LocHeroName"		"Puck"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_145_Kez_LocFieldNotes"		"The Crooked Beak, an upscale tavern high among the clouds in the Eyrie, is packed. It always is on Ascension Day, but this year is different.

<br/><br/>Where it was normally filled shoulder-to-shoulder with highborn, now shorter bird people are mixed in with the crowd. One slides a drink in front of the rakish blue figure sitting across from me and claps him on the back.

<br/><br/>\"I didn't get into all this for the glory but I've gotta admit, it's a nice perk,\" he says.

<br/><br/>Kez, as he is known, used steel and guile to help overthrow Imperia, the Usurper Queen. It was no easy task, but it earned him—and by extension, his flightless brethren—respect they'd long been denied. Until then, they'd been seen as lesser people by the proud Skywrath.

<br/><br/>\"We had help,\" he admits. \"Needed it, really. Imperia wasn't going to give up her crown easily. It cost a lot of blood.\"

<br/><br/>Nowadays, Kez wanders the land in search of new wrongs to right, usually returning to the Eyrie only for the city's biggest celebration. A flightless passes him another stein.

<br/><br/>\"The free drinks aren't a bad perk, either,\" he grins."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_145_Kez_LocHeroName"		"Kez"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_14_Pudge_LocFieldNotes"		"Goodkind acted like assigning me to write about Pudge was a gift, but I saw right through her. Who cares if readers love tales of Pudge's lust for carnage? They're not the ones who have to get close to his hooks and, worse, his smell. They're not the ones who have to trudge through mud, viscera, and other substances I'd rather not consider.

<br/><br/>But watching him from a safe distance outside Quoidge, I've concluded Pudge is more nuanced than I'd assumed. He's still disgusting, make no mistake. But once you look past the defilement, you notice a method to Pudge's butchery.

<br/><br/>He will eat anything, but he prefers the ones who are still screaming, keeping them alive as long as he can as he removes sections of the body piece by piece, skewering loose bits of facial flesh on his hook.

<br/><br/>Whether that part is to save food for later or for decoration, I had no interest in getting closer to find out. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_14_Pudge_LocHeroName"		"Pudge"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_14_Pudge_LocPersonaFieldNotes"		"The undertaker in Weeping Rose was still sewing up the corpses when I arrived. Every last member of a prominent family had been killed in a carriage wreck. At first, I was irritated that I'd listened to the drunk militiaman. This type of accident was tragic, of course, but unusual? 

<br/><br/>Seeing that question cross my face, the undertaker motioned me towards the bodies, laid out on a series of tables like marble cots. Then I saw what was unusual. Along with the expected broken bones and wide gashes, the bodies were covered in tiny slices and holes, some with thread poking out of the flesh. I saw fingers removed, eyes that looked like they'd been yanked out of sockets, small patches of skin and flesh peeled away. 

<br/><br/>Before they committed him to an asylum, the surviving driver ranted about a stuffed toy found on the side of the road during a rest stop. A little ugly thing. The children had loved it. May they rest in peace. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_155_Largo_LocFieldNotes"		"I arrange to meet Kerrick, Mossgrave, and Quibbins at the Quail's Head—a seaside watering hole popular among writers because it's quiet and (mostly) brawl-free—to compare notes. But when I arrive, they're already sitting with a large green stranger who lugs a stringed instrument on his back.

<br/><br/>\"He just sat down with us,\" Kerrick stammers apologetically. \"He's—\"

<br/><br/>\"Name's Largo,\" the stranger interrupts, as I grab a seat. \"These boys were just telling me all about the Quilkin.\"

<br/><br/>It's unusual for someone to want to interview us, the chroniclers. Being interested in others is our job. I ask Largo where he's from, a question he deflects with a wave toward the sea and a vague \"Oh, a ways out.\"

<br/><br/>He continues peppering us with questions in a friendly, disarming manner. We find ourselves lowering our usual defenses and opening up about the Quilkin. Even dour Mossgrave is uncharacteristically garrulous with the newcomer.

<br/><br/>Eventually, Largo stands and offers a happy \"Chur, bros\" before hopping up on the bar. He bursts into song—a beautiful, lilting ballad starring the four of us. The chorus is a rousing singalong chant: \"Otherwise who would believe us?\" 

<br/><br/>For once, the Quail's Head is raucous. Soon the whole bar is joining in, singing a song of the Quilkin. And even though we are a notoriously secretive people, I notice no one at the table seems to mind. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_155_Largo_LocHeroName"		"Largo"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_15_Razor_LocFieldNotes"		"It's said that when we die, our souls travel to the Narrow Maze, where our eternal fates are determined. It sounds like a fable, meant to keep us on a righteous path, but the man in tattered clothing walking alongside me through the crowded Helio Imperium bazaar swears it's true.

<br/><br/>\"Razor, he's the one who hurries the souls along,\" he says with a shudder. \"He'll whip ya with electricity 'til you're running so fast, yer feet barely touch the ground.\"

<br/><br/>The man—he refused to tell me his name—had somehow escaped Razor's watchful eye, then escaped the narrow maze. He tells me the story of his life. It begins to feel less like he's making conversation and more like he's pleading his case. Finally, he gets back to the subject of Razor.

<br/><br/>\"He's got a book with all the names of the dead,\" the man says. \"I dunno if mine's still in there after I escaped, but I'm runnin' all the same. Don't want him to notice I'm missing and track me down.\"

<br/><br/>The air suddenly fills with static. Despite the blue skies, there's a lightning crack. And with that, the man is gone."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_15_Razor_LocHeroName"		"Razor"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_16_SandKing_LocFieldNotes"		"The sun-baked bazaar of Qaldin thrums with vitality. Vendors shout over the din of arriving caravans. Spices perfume the air. Whirling dervishes dance mysterious rites. Nibbling on a lamb skewer, I remark to my guide how lively the kingdom seems amid the lifeless desert. 

<br/><br/>Wasim laughs. \"The desert is very much alive! The Scintillant Waste thinks. It moves. And when it wants a body, it sends the Sand King.\" This avatar, he elaborates, appears as a huge arachnid called Crixalis, or \"Soul of the Sand.\" He leans close. \"And who forged the armor that lets it take shape? The Djinn of Qaldin!\" His eyes glimmer with amusement—or pride.

<br/><br/>Why, I wonder, had the Djinn done this? Wasim shrugs. \"Some say it was to give the desert a form that could be bargained with, so that it would not swallow up Qaldin. Others, to create a monster to torment men. Others, simply because it was amusing.\"

<br/><br/>I ask Wasim why he thinks the Djinn conjured a magical sand scorpion.

<br/><br/>Wasim laughs. \"Who the hell knows why the Djinn do anything?\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_16_SandKing_LocHeroName"		"Sand King"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_17_StormSpirit_LocFieldNotes"		"For a half-Celestial being who appears to be made of pure electricity, Raijin Thunderkeg is remarkably grounded.

<br/><br/>He's better known in this region as Storm Spirit, but he insists I call him \"Raijin.\"

<br/><br/>\"That's what my friends call me, and everyone I meet is a friend,\" he chortles.

<br/><br/>That's debatable, I think, as he regales me with tales of battles he's fought and won as we wander through the Stormlands. The lightning is worrying, but he seems to force it to strike only him. He says it tickles. Again, debatable.

<br/><br/>Raijin then shares the story of how he came to power. Attempting to call down the rains to help his starving people using magic, he angered the Storm Celestial, who then tried to kill him. Another spell by which he hoped to sacrifice himself to save his village instead fused mage and Celestial into one being.

<br/><br/>His mood grows as dark as the storm clouds overhead, but he quickly brightens again.  

<br/><br/>\"Now I try to use the power of the storm for good,\" he beams, slapping me on the back heartily. The blow is hard, but it's the jolt of static from his hand that sends me flying. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_17_StormSpirit_LocHeroName"		"Storm Spirit"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_18_Sven_LocFieldNotes"		"Seashells and discarded crab carapaces crunch under Sven's armored feet as he marches along the Narrow Channel's bloodsand shores. I'd been following twenty paces back for a week. Waved once. No reply.

<br/><br/>So here's what I know: He runs like he's punishing the ground for being under his feet. He's as comfortable in the water as he is on land, so maybe the tales of his mother being a sea creature of some sort are true. And he's as good at hunting game with the Outcast Blade as he is with it in battle. 

<br/><br/>No jest there. I watched him throw it a hundred yards at a sprinting gungadeer, impaling it right in the spine on an ironwood—and it even made it six inches into the ironwood. He also left one of the gungadeer's well-cooked haunches by his fire the next morning. Part of his personal knight's code? A peace offering? Maybe he just wasn't hungry.

<br/><br/>Having finally gotten his attention, I attempt to start our interview, and ask him if it's true that he's half-Meranth. He takes a sidelong glance at me, walks out onto one of the Narrow Channel's many piers, jumps off it in full armor, and plunges without a ripple into the channel's inky depths.

<br/><br/>\"Yes,\" I write. I'd just completed the longest interview anyone had ever had with Sven. Not bad. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_18_Sven_LocHeroName"		"Sven"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_19_Tiny_LocFieldNotes"		"The sulfurous air in the valley between two of Vuurcrag's smaller mountains has me coughing violently. I'm struggling to keep up with the massive strides of the Stone Giant known, a little disingenuously, as Tiny. As we walk, he seems to slowly grow in size. Wait, are his steps getting longer? Is he absorbing the stone around him into his body? 

<br/><br/>\"Yes, perhaps I began as lava,\" he says, answering the question I didn't realize I'd asked aloud. \"One of these volcanoes could have created me. Thank you, small one,\" he rumbled. 

<br/><br/>I'd found him practicing his tree throwing at the edge of a valley forest a few hours ago. When I commented on the rounded, concentric lines atop his head, suggesting it could be a clue to his origins, he seemed confused. He claimed he'd never actually seen them before. After I gave him a glimpse with a reflecting plate from my pack, I could swear he smiled.

<br/><br/>\"I once climbed to the top of the highest peak of the Vuurcrag Mountains. From up there, the entire range, it was shaped like those circles,\" Tiny had said.

<br/><br/>As I write this, he's already trundling away. He picks up speed. I drop in a coughing fit. \"Good luck, big guy,\" I wheeze. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_19_Tiny_LocHeroName"		"Tiny"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1_Antimage_LocFieldNotes"		"My long search for Anti-Mage eventually, inevitably, brought me back to Ultimyr Academy — the place he would most happily burn to the ground with everyone inside.

<br/><br/>After verifying my identity with an enchanted door, I made my way to the refectory. I found one of my more reliable wizard informants pretty much exactly where I had last left him: on a stool, staring blearily at a bottomless cup of mead replenishing itself.

<br/><br/>This is a man who would speak freely about nearly every topic under the sun, from raging gods who hold grudges, to great wizarding wars, to factoids about the moon. The one thing he wouldn't talk about, it seemed, was the person I kept asking him about. Anti-Mage's blades that can drain magic? \"Have you heard about the giant spiders of Dreadwood?\" Anti-Mage's job imprisoning his comrades at the Tyler Estate? \"Let me tell you where to buy high-quality robes at a reasonable price.\" Any recent sightings? 

<br/><br/>A shiver. He'd run out of ways to change the subject, and wearily — with a sudden and unsettled sobriety — he looked me in the eye and said \"Don't make me talk about him.\" Then he turned his back on me, with a refocused interest in the mead spiraling back up in his mug. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1_Antimage_LocHeroName"		"Anti-Mage"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_1_Antimage_LocPersonaFieldNotes"		"Wei paced as I took a seat in her mentor's sparse quarters in the Tyler Estate, the asylum for the criminally wizardous. At first, we'd been equally disappointed. I had hoped to finally interview Anti-Mage. She had hoped a knock on the door meant another \"fun\" chance to kill an escapee. Yet when I'd mentioned Goodkind sent me, Wei smiled and, with considerable enthusiasm, told me she'd always secretly hoped to see her name in print. \"But don't write that part,\" she added. I pretended to erase the sentences you just read.

<br/><br/>Our discussion felt like trying to control a river. A story about her family's slaughter at the hands of a marauding witch abruptly stopped and turned into a rant about Anti-Mage's strict diet, which immediately shifted into an anecdote about the first head she took off a wizard, and then somehow twisted into her recommending the only book on her instructor's shelf that wasn't \"super boring.\" 

<br/><br/>Finally, I asked how Anti-Mage had found her. \"Of course. That's the perfect story for your journal.\" After collecting her thoughts, she added, \"I'm sorry, where were we?\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_20_VengefulSpirit_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Call me Shendelzare,\" says the Queen of the Eyrie kindly.

<br/><br/>Her nickname in the realms would imply more of an obsession with... well, vengeance. But by all accounts she runs the kingdom exceptionally well, and seems beloved by all. It likely helps that her predecessor on the throne, her sister Imperia, was a cruel and vicious dictator. If you want to be a popular ruler, it's not a bad act to follow.

<br/><br/>Especially since Imperia had stolen the throne from Shendelzare in the first place, hacking her wings off in a palace coup and throwing her from the highest tower, where she was left for dead. Only a chance encounter with a wandering goddess of mischief saved her life. 

<br/><br/>Well, mostly. For years, she existed in a state that was neither entirely alive or dead. I'm assuming that's where the \"spirit\" part of her nickname comes in. I'm also guessing her evil sister taking her throne and almost murdering her is where the \"vengeance\" part crops up. 

<br/><br/>Shendelzare seems at peace now. Whatever vengeance fueled her has been sated. (She also, for what it's worth, looks considerably more corporeal these days). One uprising and one regicide later, and all is right in the realm of Skywrath.

<br/><br/>Well, mostly alright. There's also the business of the Flightless, a caste of bird creatures who threw in with Shendelzare to help overthrow her sister, in exchange for equal treatment in the kingdom. It seems they're holding her to her bargain, and there have been growing pains.

<br/><br/>Still, she is confident she can bring peace, as long as she is just and fair — not her sister, in other words. She doesn't seem very interested in revenge these days. \"Vengeance may have won me a kingdom,\" she says, \"but it cannot win me its people.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_20_VengefulSpirit_LocHeroName"		"Vengeful Spirit"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_21_Windranger_LocFieldNotes"		"The trees outside Zaru'Kina seem to move in unison with Lyralei's hand. The same breeze pushing and pulling the branches is also, unfortunately, chilling me to the point of shivering. It's always something.

<br/><br/>\"Ah, sorry,\" she says with a shrug, still upbeat.

<br/><br/>She takes off her cloak and offers it to me. Despite my well-earned hesitancy to take gifts from new \"friends,\" I wrap it greedily around my body. 

<br/><br/>\"You asked me how I can love the wind after a storm killed my parents.\" She says this with the same odd lightness. \"But what you don't understand is that the wind itself is my parent, not them. It's far more of a mother than whoever gave birth to me. It sings me to sleep, it runs its fingers through my hair.\"

<br/><br/>Without thinking, she gestures again, causing sparks from our campfire to blow in my direction. I recoil, and she apologizes again, giggling.

<br/><br/>\"My mother is acting quite eager today, isn't she?\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_21_Windranger_LocHeroName"		"Windranger"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_22_Zeus_LocFieldNotes"		"Lightning pierces the sky outside Nightshade Tavern, so bright flashes of it can be glimpsed through the battered wooden shutters keeping the rain outside. A storm this bad can only mean one thing: 

<br/><br/>Zeus is pissed.

<br/><br/>Sure enough, the door to the establishment is kicked open and the Father of the Gods himself stomps in.

<br/><br/>\"Your table's ready!\" the portly barkeep blurts obsequiously. He's already running to a table in the center of the room, shooing away the patrons seated there. One look at the tendrils of electricity arcing from Zeus's eyes and fingertips warns the patrons they'd best make way.

<br/><br/>Zeus storms over and sits heavily on a seat, which creaks under his weight. A tankard of ale is in front of him before he needs to ask.

<br/><br/>\"How long must I continue to prove myself among these mortals before I can return to Olympus?\" Zeus bellows. The barkeep utters a \"...surely not much longer,\" before deciding he'd best keep quiet.

<br/><br/>Zeus's eyes follow a curvy barmaid before he shakes his head and pounds back his drink. He'd strayed one too many times before, which led his wife to banish him.

<br/><br/>\"More battles await me,\" he sighs, loudly, before stomping back into the downpour. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_22_Zeus_LocHeroName"		"Zeus"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_23_Kunkka_LocFieldNotes"		"Towering waves crashed against the cliffs on the western edge of the Trembling Isle. I kept a safe distance from the ledge as a Claddish goat farmer named Tarn and I wandered the adjacent plain.

<br/><br/>\"It all happened way over there,\" Tarn said, pointing far out to sea. \"The demons came in droves, and our navy had their hands full trying to hold 'em back.\"

<br/><br/>Other fleets would have been overwhelmed in an instant, he affirmed. Other fleets didn't have Kunkka. The unflappable Admiral led the charge against seemingly impossible odds, refusing to consider retreat or surrender even as ship after ship was sunk.

<br/><br/>\"The mages'll say they helped, and maybe they did, but you give me one ship with Kunkka at the helm, I like my odds,\" Tarn said.

<br/><br/>Of course, demon and Claddish navy alike were no match for Maelrawn, the massive sea beast who emerged from the depths and laid waste to all. Some say the creature took Kunkka's ship down, but Tarn will hear nothing of it.

<br/><br/>\"You can still see his ship patrolling these waters on clear nights,\" he avers. \"And so long as he's around, we're safe.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_23_Kunkka_LocHeroName"		"Kunkka"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_25_Lina_LocFieldNotes"		"The sun blazes over Misrule in a cloudless desert of a sky.

<br/><br/>Lina's blast of heat lightning flash-fries the foot-long scorpion I hadn't noticed until almost too late. Smells like pheasant, albeit the least appetizing pheasant ever. \"This way,\" Lina says, kicking the eight-legged corpse down the dune and strutting into the cave mouth.

<br/><br/>\"I met the Desert Wyrm when I was nine. Sees himself as sort of a reptilian father figure, so no sudden movements or –\" she produces a fireball. 

<br/><br/>\"Understood.\" 

<br/><br/>We round the corner to find him uncoiling, one glowering, slitted pupil locked on me. Then he winks, shakes like a dog and roars with laughter. 

<br/><br/>\"You can breathe now,\" Lina nudges me.

<br/><br/>Using flame itself, the two recreate Lina's greatest battles; the stories are as impressive as the dizzying display of pyrotechnics.

<br/><br/>Then the show devolves into Lina burning unflattering pictograms of her sister in the cavern wall, getting increasingly agitated as she does. I quietly take my leave, glad to be an only child. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_25_Lina_LocHeroName"		"Lina"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_26_Lion_LocFieldNotes"		"\"I've collected thousands of souls,\" says the demon Azagar from the summoning circle that keeps him contained. \"Every demon has to collect 10,000 to get promoted to archdemon. I was just two away from that.\"

<br/><br/>Azagar had been one of the hell's shining stars. He'd collected the most pristine souls, tricking holy leaders, altruists, even an actual saint. The Demon Witch sorcerer Lion was among his greatest prizes.

<br/><br/>\"He always fought for the little guy,\" the demon says. \"But if there's one thing he loved more than doing good, it was the adulation that came with it.\"

<br/><br/>Azagar promised Lion endless fame and glory if he just followed orders. The demon twisted Lion's sense of right and wrong, turning his efforts against the righteous. Once Lion's soul was well and truly corrupted, Azagar abandoned him, returning to hell with his soul and leaving the sorcerer to face the harm he'd done.

<br/><br/>\"I was working out plans to corrupt a devout priest for my 10,000th soul when Lion showed up in hell demanding his own soul back,\" Azagar said.

<br/><br/>But there are no take-backs in hell. Lion couldn't reclaim his soul. So instead, he flew into a rage and hacked the demon's hand off. When he returned from hell, he was full of anger and hatred.

<br/><br/>\"Hey, did you know that if you take a month off from collecting souls to convalesce, your tally resets to zero?\" Azagar asks bitterly. \"I sure didn't know that.\"

<br/><br/>\"So I had to start from scratch. Say, you look like you're running out of ink. I could get you a bottomless supply. For a price.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_26_Lion_LocHeroName"		"Lion"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_27_ShadowShaman_LocFieldNotes"		"Rhasta the Shadow Shaman held out his hands. With mild annoyance and more than a little skepticism—I'm no fool, after all—I took them. The troll's reputation was mixed at best, and I knew these so-called \"shamans\" are more skilled at reading the people they're conning than they are at befriending the dead. Rhasta closed his harsh white eyes and hummed a tune.

<br/><br/><i>Here comes the con,</i> I thought. Another waste of time and coin. But as the melody continued, it snagged on something in the back of my head. It was so familiar, almost like a smell that drags at your soul, searching for a memory. Rhasta clucked his tongue and asked me a very personal question that I will not share here.

<br/><br/>I tried to hide my reaction as Rhasta began speaking with a new lilt, as if someone I knew long ago was using his throat to talk. After he, or I suppose she, had said their piece, Rhasta opened his eyes.

<br/><br/>He lifted a wide-brimmed hat as he smiled his ghastly smile.

<br/><br/>\"Now comes the best part: your donation.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_27_ShadowShaman_LocHeroName"		"Shadow Shaman"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_28_Slardar_LocFieldNotes"		"The tiny verdawood skiff, borrowed from the friend of an enemy of an enemy, bounces chaotically across Shadeshore's choppy waves as I row into the wind. It's always into the wind. Thanks, Goodkind. 

<br/><br/>A green fluke flashes upward then slaps down a welcome. My contact. In one balletic flip, the Naga, a former guard of the Sunken Treasury, swirls up alongside my skiff and demands payment up front. She also repeatedly mentions she's \"currently without a mate.\" 

<br/><br/>Once I've paid her (in coin and coin alone) she recounts how she and Slardar once pursued a Meranth who had stolen some sort of flame staff and fled into the depths. The Slithereen didn't care that the device was practically useless underwater, where its fire was extinguished before it could start. It was the principle that mattered.

<br/><br/>So when merciless Slardar caught up, he dragged the thief ashore, affixed the staff's tip to its belly and slow-cooked it alive for a full day. 

<br/><br/>\"The stench was unbearable,\" the Naga hisses admiringly. \"But Slardar gave him a final lesson to take to the grave.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_28_Slardar_LocHeroName"		"Slardar"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_29_Tidehunter_LocFieldNotes"		"The beaches south of Smoke Harbor are a mile-long stretch of pristine, untouched white sands, laced with stray ribbons of mist that have drifted down from the harbor. If the mists are especially heavy, they might even swallow up the \"NO SWIMMING\" sign posted near the water's edge. So just to be safe, the Smoke Harbor city council has put a sign every few feet. This isn't a point they want you to miss.

<br/><br/>The area was once a destination for wealthy travelers, says Pellen, the owner of a desolate tourist resort set some distance back from the beach.

<br/><br/>\"So many merchants came here,\" his voice is dour. \"They brought their families for a week of relaxation or came to work out trade deals with other merchants.\"

<br/><br/>But then Tidehunter came. 

<br/><br/>First there was a roiling in the water. Then came the first scream. Followed by more screams, and then a lot more screams. Anyone in the water was easy prey. Some on land stood a fighting chance of escape, but only because there were so many of them. Their killer was methodical, gleeful, and he butchered his way through them.

<br/><br/>\"That blue water out there? That was red. The white beach? Took months for the tide to wash the blood out,\" Pellen says. \"That was a year ago. People haven't started coming back yet. Maybe they never will.\"

<br/><br/>He straightens one of the signs. \"A beach you can't swim in. Can't say I blame them.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_29_Tidehunter_LocHeroName"		"Tidehunter"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_2_Axe_LocFieldNotes"		"Of all the heroes to ever set foot on the Terrene Plane, <span class='strikethrough'>very few</span>   <span class='strikethrough'>almost no one</span>   absolutely nobody could ever hold a candle to the great Mogul Khan, or <span class='strikethrough'>Axe  Mighty Axe</span> The Great and Mighty Axe, as he is universally known. Having seen his <span class='strikethrough'>brutality</span> artistry up close, I can say without hesitation he is <span class='strikethrough'>among the bravest</span> absolutely without question the bravest fighter these lands have seen. 

<br/><br/>The Red Mist General, greatest of the Oglodi, is as <span class='strikethrough'>undaunted by death</span>  <span class='strikethrough'>undaunted by death, which means he is not intimidated by it</span>  handsome as he is deadly.

<br/><br/>He is also remarkably hands-on with regards to his own legacy. In fact, it would not be inaccurate to suggest that I am not entirely unencouraged to record his innumerable virtues.

<br/><br/>Mogul tells me he liked the last sentence about his innumerable virtues. He also wants me to point out that he is not forcing me to just write down everything he says about how great he is.

<br/><br/>But also he is very great. I just wrote, by myself. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_2_Axe_LocHeroName"		"Axe"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_30_WitchDoctor_LocFieldNotes"		"\"You come for healing? Perhaps a nice curse for an ex-lover?\"

<br/><br/>Zharvakko the Witch Doctor shambled around his hut, the largest in his village in the jungles of Prefectura Island. The dilapidated shelves were piled high with a mishmash of woven trinkets, dead lizards, and assorted skulls. So many skulls.

<br/><br/>\"Anyting you need, you've come to de right doctor,\" he said with a cheerfulness I hadn't expected.

<br/><br/>His demeanor dimmed when I explained I didn't come seeking healing or curses, but brightened again when I told him I was still willing to pay him — but for his story, not his potions.

<br/><br/>\"You want to know my story? How long you got?\" he chuckled. \"I have de best story.

<br/><br/>\"When I was a wee ting many years ago, I was broken, ugly. But de gods, dey are merciful. Dey give me powers. I fix myself.\"

<br/><br/>He straightened himself as much as possible, which is to say he was still hunched and uneven. Spread his arms wide and inhaled deeply, proudly, knocking over a stack of bones.

<br/><br/>\"And now ... lookin' pretty good, no?\"

<br/><br/>As a skull rolled to my feet, I had neither the heart nor the courage to tell him otherwise."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_30_WitchDoctor_LocHeroName"		"Witch Doctor"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_31_Lich_LocFieldNotes"		"I just can't see a way a bottomless pit could exist. I can see exactly five ways.

<br/><br/>One: it's a tunnel clear through the planet. Two: a portal to an infinite void. Three: a gate to oblivion. Four: a temporal dilation that slows falling to an infinite crawl. Five: something else entirely.

<br/><br/>Fill a pit with water, it's a pool. Make it bottomless, it's the Black Pool. None have studied it more closely, if involuntarily, than Lich. Once Ethreain, a frost-mage and tyrant, he was overthrown. Then he was thrown in. He spent a year falling and countless more years snagged on a jagged outcrop—plenty of time to ruminate.

<br/><br/>I asked him whether the pool was truly bottomless. He grinned. His face is a lipless skull, so he has little choice. Nonetheless, it's unsettling. 

<br/><br/>\"Someone asked me that once. Anhil? Curious fellow. Too curious.\" He leaned close, voice gleeful. \"I do love the taste of imprudent geomancers.\"

<br/><br/>Forget the Black Pool. It's clear enough Lich's depravity is bottomless. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_31_Lich_LocHeroName"		"Lich"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_32_Riki_LocFieldNotes"		"The streets of Slom were foggy, the feeble light of the streetlamps leaving plenty of ground shadowed. Not that I would have noticed him approaching even in the light of the midday sun. His introduction came in the form of a blade at my throat.

<br/><br/>\"Why are you asking around about me?\" Riki hissed. \"Speak quickly. I don't have all day to decide whether you live or die.\"

<br/><br/>I'd heard the army who had murdered his royal family had settled in Slom. By the time I arrived to speak with them, the few that hadn't been ambushed and slain had fled. Speaking slowly – the steel at my throat made me very cautious about moving my vocal cords too recklessly – I asked my captor whether the killing had slaked his thirst for revenge.

<br/><br/>\"Revenge?\" he genuinely seemed surprised. \"What revenge? I had no great love for my family. Nor did I have a claim to the throne.

<br/><br/>\"I didn't kill their murderers for vengeance. I killed them because I could.\"

<br/><br/>And with that, he was gone. But for the pounding of my heart, there was no sign he'd been there at all."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_32_Riki_LocHeroName"		"Riki"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_33_Enigma_LocFieldNotes"		"Stories vary about who or what Enigma is: cursed alchemist, sentient black hole, or the abyss incarnate. I wasn't really eager to encounter any of those.

<br/><br/>My best lead was a journal by one Jovat Kazran, gifted to me by the son of an alchemist who had gone mad.

<br/><br/>\"Happy to get rid of it,\" he said, almost apologetically. \"I suggest you don't read it.\"

<br/><br/>Despite his warning, I tried. I admit the book went over my head -- mostly obscure ruminations on dark magic. It didn't help that the last page was missing. I went looking for a subject matter expert to explain it, which put me on the trail of yet another alchemist named Cedric.

<br/><br/>I found his lab in an attic open to the stars. Books and bottles were scattered everywhere. Arcane circles were chalked in red on the stone floor, ringed with the stumps of candles. But Cedric was long gone.

<br/><br/>Dead end, assignment over. That should have been a load off. Instead, I felt a great sense of unease. A book promising immortality with the last page missing. I suspected I wouldn't be the last person to attempt to chase it down. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_33_Enigma_LocHeroName"		"Enigma"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_34_Tinker_LocFieldNotes"		"Even after years of disuse and neglect — the cavern walls drip with a liquid that closer inspection reveals might not be water — the Violet Archives were still tidier than your average Keen hovel. I had expected, and managed to sidestep, the usual death traps the Keen Folk love to leave for curious visitors to their repository of knowledge. It took some hunting, but after dodging the cannon fire and the spear trap down a hallway that led to a side room (and a spike pit), I eventually found Boush's notes on what led to the so-called Violet Plateau Incident.

<br/><br/>I'm no engineer, but I had enough knowledge to at least somewhat follow Boush's scribbles. His work went far beyond any other Keen I'd had the irritation of knowing. Boush had mastered light itself, using perplexing metal tubes and orbs to contort it to his will.

<br/><br/>The tone of the journals turned from ecstatic to panicked as Boush inevitably lost control of a new toy designed to create an interplanar defense shield. Light folded in on itself, and then again, and then again, until — like a spring at the limit of its tension — it violently popped back into place and tore a hole between our world and another, darker one. 

<br/><br/>That, concluded the penultimate journal in the Archives. I opened the last one to find a single entry: \"Interplanar Defense Shield: Second Attempt...\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_34_Tinker_LocHeroName"		"Tinker"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_35_Sniper_LocFieldNotes"		"Kardel refused to give me an interview unless I played this silly, potentially suicidal game with him. Walking a hundred paces from him, I held up a fragment of paper torn from my journal with a roughly sketched face. Before I could blink, a shot buzzed above me, leaving a hole in the center of the target.

<br/><br/>\"Go back another hundred paces,\" he shouted. I ripped out another page and walked even further back. Once again, it went straight through.

<br/><br/>\"Walk even more.\" I did. \"No, farther.\" I could barely see him anymore, let alone hear him. Once again, the shot was clean.

<br/><br/>As we later talked over ale, Kardel confessed his struggle with being a Keen who was distrusted even by other Keen due to some preposterous prophecy. Most people only acknowledged him when they had a heavy purse and needed someone killed. With me of all people, Kardel had found a brief respite from his loneliness. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_35_Sniper_LocHeroName"		"Sniper"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_36_Necrophos_LocFieldNotes"		"A thick blanket of putrescence enveloped the tiny village of Brylswood like a burial shroud. Breathing through heavy cloth, I wandered through the silent streets, looking for anyone who could possibly speak of the corrupted monk Rotund'jere.

<br/><br/>He had been through recently. That much was clear from the bloated corpses littering the streets. They were covered in blackened pustules, most of which had burst, soaking the ground with some sort of fetid ichor that refused to fully dry.

<br/><br/>Some had coughed up what I assume was blood. Others, mercifully, apparently died before the sickness could even reach their lungs.

<br/><br/>I hoped whatever time had passed since Rotund'jere had visited Brylswood was enough to allow the pestilence to dissipate. Still, I didn't touch anything until I had left the place.

<br/><br/>It's been 24 hours since I left, and every tickle in my throat still sends me into a panicked sweat. I just pray that if Necrophos' disease was going to claim me, it would have done so already."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_36_Necrophos_LocHeroName"		"Necrophos"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_37_Warlock_LocFieldNotes"		"\"He's not welcome here,\" grumbled Umboldt Tarnath, Dean of Ultimyr Academy.

<br/><br/>In his lofty office, which doubles as an ornate library (and triples as a vaulted laboratory), the Dean paced as he groused about Demnok Lannik, the Warlock.

<br/><br/>Lannik had made a name for himself as Chief Curator and Head of Acquisitions for Ultimyr. His acclaim grew when he showed an unprecedented aptitude for the magical arts. 

<br/><br/>Unfortunately, he also showed an unhealthy love of adulation and a manic obsession with mastering arcane powers. Not content with common wizardcraft, he sought out obscure and dangerous rituals. His mania overtook him, pushing him down increasingly dark paths.

<br/><br/>\"Finally, he carved a staff out of Dreadwood and used it to summon a demon, which is <i>very</i> forbidden on school grounds,\" Tarnath said.

<br/><br/>Now, Lannik is said to be writing his own Black Grimoire, which Tarnath believes contains forbidden spells and sinister incantations.

<br/><br/>\"That's a step too far for Ultimyr,\" the Dean hissed. \"So no, he's not welcome here anymore. And someday, someone's gonna have the courage to tell him that.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_37_Warlock_LocHeroName"		"Warlock"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_38_Beastmaster_LocFieldNotes"		"In the crumbling high city of Slom, a stablehand swears that Karroch once stunned a boar. Not with a hammer, but with a perfect retort. 

<br/><br/>\"It squealed at him. He grunted back. Left it speechless.\"

<br/><br/>Now called Beastmaster, Karroch winces at the title. I asked what name he prefers. He grunted: \"Beastfriend.\"

<br/><br/>Karroch was raised among the beasts of the royal menagerie: lions, apes and even more exotic creatures. (\"I used to shovel the place out,\" the stablehand volunteers. \"Ever see gryphon dung? Not what you'd think.\")

<br/><br/>One creature spoke—not aloud, but mind to mind—and begged for freedom. The king laughed, then beat it bloody. Karroch tried to heal it, bonding with it in a desperate attempt to save its life.

<br/><br/>The night it finally died, the creature sang a death song that echoed along the walls of the menagerie. Then the sound of a single soul, quietly crying. Then nothing. And then the sound of a hundred cages being opened, slowly, methodically, one at a time. 

<br/><br/>The king was found mauled the next morning, from hooves and beaks, teeth and claws. It is not known the last thing he heard. But from the look on his face, he wasn't happy to hear it. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_38_Beastmaster_LocHeroName"		"Beastmaster"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_39_QueenofPain_LocFieldNotes"		"Uldamine, a self-described historian on the fallen city of Elze, whose books were unusually popular, looked up from the chaotic mess of pages she was poring over. She offered me a cool smile.

<br/><br/>In her cluttered library were countless tomes, several of which she had written. Some of their covers suggested they weren't purely historical.

<br/><br/>\"You wanna know about Akasha,\" she snipped at me. \"Pull up a chair.\"

<br/><br/>I sat as she spun the tale of Akasha, the Queen of Pain. The last king of Elze had ordered his demonologists to summon a being devoted to causing agony.

<br/><br/>The citizens of Elze were a pious lot. The thought of a creature being summoned to torture prisoners scandalized them. When they learned Akasha had actually been summoned to torture the king in his bedchamber, they were mortified.

<br/><br/>\"His howls could be heard across Elze,\" she said, flushing a little. \"I've written all about it in one of my books ... let me find it.\"

<br/><br/>As she searched, she mentioned the people of Elze had overthrown the king due to his ... appetites. That freed Akasha from his power, and now she spreads torment everywhere.

<br/><br/>\"I'm writing a book on it now,\" she said. \"It's gonna fly off the shelves.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_39_QueenofPain_LocHeroName"		"Queen of Pain"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_3_Bane_LocFieldNotes"		"For a temple carved deep into the surface of the Trembling Isle aeons ago, concealed from unwanted eyes using arcane magic, the cathedral of Nyctasha was remarkably bright.

<br/><br/>Torch-filled sconces lit the way every few feet, and the walls were painted white to reflect the brightness.

<br/><br/>\"These walls were once black and crimson,\" whispered a Priestess of Nyctasha. \"Back when we believed fear was simply an emotion, a state of mind.\"

<br/><br/>Coming from a disciple of the goddess of fear, those words were surprising. However, while Nyctasha created terror, she did not relish it.

<br/><br/>\"She simply radiated her own fear unto the mortal world,\" the Priestess explained solemnly. \"But it was controlled. It served a purpose. It was never cruel.\"

<br/><br/>Never cruel, that is, until the goddess's own nightmares birthed Bane — an embodiment of fear so great, Nyctasha severed it from her mind to keep from going mad. She hasn't slept since.

<br/><br/>\"That was when fear became something more,\" the Priestess shuddered. \"That was when fear became elemental.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_3_Bane_LocHeroName"		"Bane"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_40_Venomancer_LocFieldNotes"		"In the steaming green murk of Jidi Isle's Acid Jungle, I sat cross-legged before Chief Ocot of the Yomoco, as a young man in a feathered cape strained to render the old hunter's words into my tongue.

<br/><br/>\"Before,\" the youth said, \"Aktok's people raid here. Take sons, take daughters. For sacrifice. To wake snake god.\"

<br/><br/>The chief spat into the moss. \"Bad god. Devour world.\"

<br/><br/>\"But now,\" the youth continued, gesturing as he spoke, \"many moons, no raid. We go look. Watch from trees.\" He glanced to his chief, who nodded. \"They gone. Whole village. Bones on ground, huts broken.\"

<br/><br/>I asked if this was not a relief. The youth interpreted my words, and the old man barked a mirthless laugh.

<br/><br/>\"You do not understand,\" the youth translated, voice lowering. \"They did not fail. They wake Aktok. We see him crawl from earth. Green skin. Flowers on back. Big, sharp teeth. Drip poison.\"

<br/><br/>The chief leaned close, his teeth black with betel, croaking in his own language. The youth swallowed before relaying his words.

<br/><br/>\"He slither away. We hope he not come back. But now, Aktok lives.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_40_Venomancer_LocHeroName"		"Venomancer"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_41_FacelessVoid_LocFieldNotes"		"Given how little we know about beings from the far-flung realm of Claszureme, I decided to study the Faceless Void from a safe distance. Of course, when your subject is known as either Faceless Void or Darkterror, it's hard to say exactly what, if anything, qualifies as a safe distance.

<br/><br/>Fortunately or unfortunately, I wasn't given much of a choice in the matter. I tracked him beneath the dense canopy of the Fellstrath Jungle for...a day? Five days? I couldn't tell. But every time I caught a glimpse of his horrid form, my feet grew leaden, slowing my pace as he continued on unfettered.

<br/><br/>Occasionally, I'd get near enough to get a decent look at him, but then he'd instantly appear twice as far as he'd been a second ago. 

<br/><br/>Eventually, I found myself frozen completely, and he sidled up to get a sniff. It appears he didn't see me as a threat, thank the gods. He simply cocked his head, looked me up and down with his eyeless, faceless face, and strode away. I stood and stared at him, transfixed.

<br/><br/>After that, I decided it best not to pursue him further. Darkterror is likely one of those mysteries best left unsolved."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_41_FacelessVoid_LocHeroName"		"Faceless Void"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_42_WraithKing_LocFieldNotes"		"Flipping through pages of a massive tome within the vaulted library of Qaldin, Aldric Bramblethorn finally finds what he's looking for.

<br/><br/>\"There it is,\" he says, pointing with a cackle. \"Gruesome, isn't it?\"

<br/><br/>Prentiss, a historian well-versed in the tale of the legendary King Ostarion, has found a page bearing a drawing of a castle made of bone. Circles of skulls top pillars made of shin bones. The size of the castle suggests tens of thousands helped provide the building materials, and I can't imagine they did so willingly.

<br/><br/>\"Ostarion wanted to rule all of dominion. But more than that, he wanted to rule all of dominion for all of eternity,\" Bramblethorn says. An ambitious guy. \"His castle was both a stronghold and a warning.\"

<br/><br/>To that end, the king underwent a forbidden ritual. Using the souls of his enemies and his subjects alike, he tethered himself to the realm forever, not as a man but as a wraith.

<br/><br/>\"He's not quite living, but he's alive enough... for his purposes, anyway,\" Bramblethorn says. \"His kingdom has fallen, but he's still out there somewhere, demanding fealty or death. Or, often, both.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_42_WraithKing_LocHeroName"		"Wraith King"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_43_DeathProphet_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Father was among the last to receive one of Krobelus' readings,\" croaked the ancient Duchess in her ornate sun room. A young attendant poured tea for her as she slumped in her chair.

<br/><br/>Krobelus was a fortune teller for the very rich. She had been gifted the ability to see beyond the veil separating life and death, and these glimpses gave her whispers of the future. 

<br/><br/>\"She told my father of a darkness that would engulf him in two years,\" the Duchess said. \"But he was healthy. Arrogant.\" He asked the teller why, if she was so skilled at divining others' fates, she had never bothered to read her own.

<br/><br/>This turned out to be the wrong question to ask. Because it ended up being the one that Krobelus could never answer. For years she had mocked death, selling secrets of the veil to the highest bidder. But when she turned her gaze inward, death mocked her back. Her fate alone was hidden to her.

<br/><br/>So she crossed the veil instead, sacrificing herself to wrest its secrets. Death denied her. She was sent back, again and again, thinned and altered with each resurrection, denied her final rest. And a final answer.

<br/><br/>\"Father's fate came true, in the end,\" the Duchess wheezed. \"Because Krobelus no longer foretells death. She brings it.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_43_DeathProphet_LocHeroName"		"Death Prophet"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_44_PhantomAssassin_LocFieldNotes"		"I feel along the chilly stonework outside the chapel. No seams. Interesting. My escort, a prim prioress in a heavy war gown, says speaking with Mortred—with any of the Sisters of the Veil—is forbidden. She hints that turning me away was a kindness. That if I stayed, she couldn't say what Mortred would do to me.

<br/><br/>Great. Two months of tracking down leads, sifting through rumors, speaking with ruthless leaders of assassins' guilds (not very forthcoming), and my options are to give up or get murdered. I tell the prioress I'm willing to take my chances.

<br/><br/>Suddenly, the war-gowned prioress goes blurry. From the vibrating silhouette steps the Veiled Sister I'd come seeking. 

<br/><br/>Still, I jump.

<br/><br/>\"The augury of death lies not on you,\" she assures me. 

<br/><br/>\"Good to know,\" I try to force a smile. 

<br/><br/>\"Now...you may ask one question.\"

<br/><br/>So I ask about her early years. 

<br/><br/>Taken by the order from a Tares merchant's home she barely recalls, her childhood was an endless cycle of bladecraft, meditation and mending. She skips over initiation rites, but with the ghost of a smile admits she was the youngest ever to don the veil, at 12. 

<br/><br/>Her first kill? A secret only she and the corpse know. Her second? The Upstart King of Whitecap. Never heard of him? Exactly. 

<br/><br/>Before I can try for a follow-up, old \"war gown\" is back. Sigh.

<br/><br/>Should've seen that coming. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_44_PhantomAssassin_LocHeroName"		"Phantom Assassin"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_44_PhantomAssassin_LocPersonaFieldNotes"		"The alley smelled of scorched lamp oil and saffron, a tang that lingered in the nostrils. Blood still spattered across the cobblestones, but the merchant's body had been taken away by Revtel's watchmen, erased as neatly as a ledger entry.

<br/><br/>A cold blade pressed against my throat. \"Who did this?\" a voice demanded—low, urgent, uninclined to small talk.

<br/><br/>I blinked. \"I ... can speak only of what I've gathered.\" I pointed at the blood, at the spacing, at the neat arcs. \"Double-sided blade. A witness saw a veiled figure. And—it all occurred within the hour.\"

<br/><br/>The blade withdrew. A lean figure stepped from the shadows. His eyes flicked over my face. A subtle nod. \"Then she cannot have gone far.\"

<br/><br/>I exhaled—and before I finished the breath, he was gone. No footfall, no rustle, only the weight of his absence and the sense that whatever calculus had brought him here would trace the pattern onward and that more blood would follow. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_45_Pugna_LocFieldNotes"		"The monastery lay in ruins, blackened beams clawing at the sky. I wandered among the ashes, scribbling observations into my notebook.

<br/><br/>A mocking laugh stopped me mid-sentence. I looked up to see a skeletal apparition enrobed in green flame and sparse but regal vestments, eyes bright with mischievous cruelty.

<br/><br/>Panic hit me. \"I—you must be—\"

<br/><br/>The apparition snatched my notebook and flipped through its doodles and marginalia with the fascination of a child plucking a fly's wings. Pages rustled until he found the ones about the nearby villages and the local lore that had led me to this place in pursuit of Pugna. Now that I'd found him, I regretted ever coming to look for him.

<br/><br/>Pugna's grin seemed to widen. With a capricious flick, he incinerated the pages regarding his whereabouts in a gout of viridescent balefire. He tossed the book away carelessly and pried my quill from my hand. \"Mine!\" he cackled. And then he was gone.

<br/><br/>I picked up the remains of my notebook and slumped against a scorched wall. I found a piece of charcoal and began writing again. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_45_Pugna_LocHeroName"		"Pugna"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_46_TemplarAssassin_LocFieldNotes"		"A flustered healer waves me hurriedly into an ornate hospice room. 

<br/><br/>\"His health is fading,\" he breathes. \"No time to dawdle.\"

<br/><br/>My reputation for dawdling has preceded me yet again.

<br/><br/>Propped on thistledown pillows in a four-post bed lays the former Duke of Uhatu, eyes sharp, begging to tell his tale. 

<br/><br/>A voracious appetite for arcana had led him to a master codex said to reveal the hidden door to all knowledge. Unfortunately, word of his quest for knowledge had drawn the wrong kind of attention. He was midway through an incantation designed to unlock hidden secrets of the universe when Lanaya's psionic blade thrummed against his temple. Her masters ordered his assassination but in exchange for the knowledge he'd gained, she offered a compromise. 

<br/><br/>Enough of his mind must be erased to qualify as dead but he would be made an example, awakening once a day to share his story.  Her blade slid into his mind. The rest of his life's knowledge outside of his tragic tale slid into Lanaya's.

<br/><br/>The Duke's eyes lose focus. He slumps backward, breathing but otherwise still. 

<br/><br/>At least he has a nice bed. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_46_TemplarAssassin_LocHeroName"		"Templar Assassin"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_47_Viper_LocFieldNotes"		"An exhausted drizzle tries its best to heal the smoking gouges left in the treeline. <i>Pop-sizzle, pop-sizzle,</i> every time a drop lands on another glowing green stub of a thousand-year-old gnarled elm.  

<br/><br/>My ranger guide Arrol holds out a copper and tosses it into the melting slop. It vanishes instantly in a puff of noxious gas.

<br/><br/>\"Told you it was nasty stuff,\" he chuckles. I whistle in terrible admiration. I am looking at the results of the most recent acid attack from a miserable netherdrake named Viper. 

<br/><br/>The dwellers in the forest, from those living near the treeline to those hidden deep in its darkest unmapped acres, had pooled their resources and hired the rangers to kill the netherdrake. Viper had been demanding, rather insistently, and rather violently, that the forest people worship it. So far the rangers had proved little help in fending off its attacks. Arrows and sword slashes aren't especially productive against a beast whose expulsions melt bows and swords. 

<br/><br/>I ask if they'd tried worshipping it yet. This earns me a look from Arrol, which I mistake for him not hearing me, so I ask again, and this time get a look that tells me he heard me the first time. The drizzle, thankfully, turns to rain, and we run for what shelter remains in the smoldering forest. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_47_Viper_LocHeroName"		"Viper"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_48_Luna_LocFieldNotes"		"\"So ye've already met Nova,\" says the helmed warrior as she strides out of the Nightsilver Woods, glaives gleaming in the visible slivers of red-tinged moonlight.

<br/><br/>I have. The massive cat has me pressed up against a tree. I'd wager it could swallow me down in two bites. Three if it wanted to savor the taste.

<br/><br/>\"State yer business, and be truthful,\" Luna warns. \"The Goddess will tell us if ye try to deceive.\"

<br/><br/>I try to take a breath with a cat's paw the size of an anvil on my chest. I gasp through an explanation that I came seeking her story. The moon's glow changes from reddish to silver and, mercifully, the cat loses interest in me and pads away. Not <i>very</i> far away, however.

<br/><br/>Luna says she was once a great warrior whose army had been decimated. She wandered aimlessly, on the brink of death, driven to madness by hunger, when the Moon Goddess Selemene sent Nova to test her. Obviously, she had passed the test.

<br/><br/>\"When I go to war now, it is in Her service,\" she says with reverence. \"When I spill blood, it is for Her.\"

<br/><br/>With this, she leapt onto Nova's back and the pair bounded away. Selemene had saved her from starvation. From madness, I wasn't so sure."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_48_Luna_LocHeroName"		"Luna"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_49_DragonKnight_LocFieldNotes"		"Sir Davion the Brave. Sir Davion the Wise. Sir Davion the Noble. It must be difficult to be a knight so beloved by everyone he meets. Davion never basked in the attention, but I did notice a subtle smile when local maidens elbowed one another aside to get a glimpse of the hero.

<br/><br/>However, there was one name that made him bristle: Sir Davion the Dragonslayer. This struck me as almost farcical: Wasn't he best known for killing the infamous dragon Slyrak? Didn't he wear the scales of his foes?

<br/><br/>I'd seen false modesty before, so asked him outright as his retinue traveled to Hauptstadt. For the first time, I saw that his eyes weren't his alone. In killing Slyrak, he hadn't simply absorbed vast draconic power—poor fellow, he had also managed to absorb an inconvenient <i>empathy</i> for his greatest enemy. (Inconvenient, that is, if you're a famous dragonslayer.)

<br/><br/>So does that mean he's given up on dragon slaying? Not necessarily. It isn't like Slyrak was friends with <i>every</i> wyrmling kin. I'm told he found many of them insufferable, and has countless scores to settle. So perhaps they've merely reached an understanding. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_49_DragonKnight_LocHeroName"		"Dragon Knight"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_4_Bloodseeker_LocFieldNotes"		"Like the saying says, \"Where goes Iczoxtotec, so gores Strygwyr.\" 

<br/><br/>Of course, only his fellow Bonehunters call him Strygwyr. Enemies usually call him Bloodseeker. And friends? Well, let's just say he doesn't have a lot of those.

<br/><br/>So anyway, I'm tracking the great bird Iczoxtotec as it soars toward a band of Oglodi mercenaries that Bloodseeker's in the middle of slaughtering. This is my one shot at a face to face. Or half of one.

<br/><br/>I catch up as he cleaves a straggler into two neat, strangely identical piles, his mystical armor wicking away every crimson drop. I gulp. \"Were you always, er, this?\"

<br/><br/>He notices me for the first time. And to my surprise, he answers.

<br/><br/>\"The Flayed Ones require blood sacrifice,\" he pants. \"I must provide it or they will collect that blood from my people.\"

<br/><br/>I back away. You don't have to have a thirst for blood to be able to recognize when someone else has one. Luckily, just then, he catches sight of more mercenaries returning to their camp. Lucky for me. VERY unlucky for the Oglodi.

<br/><br/>I make my escape as he cleaves his way through them. I probably won't get another chance. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_4_Bloodseeker_LocHeroName"		"Bloodseeker"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_50_Dazzle_LocFieldNotes"		"\"I'm not a monster,\" Dazzle assured me.

<br/><br/>When I caught up to him, he was hunched over the body of a dying stag in a shaded woodland a mile from the Mistwood Mountains.

<br/><br/>\"They say the Nothl Realm corrupted me. But all it did was show me my ideal form,\" he huffed indignantly.

<br/><br/>Dazzle was just a boy when he had undertaken the treacherous ritual allowing him to journey to the Realm. The Council of the Dezun Order, who oversee the ritual, had warned him against going. He was too young, too unpracticed. Still, he insisted he was ready, so they allowed it. The Council was consoling Dazzle's mother over his certain death when, to their astonishment, he returned.

<br/><br/>\"Besides, would a monster do this?\"

<br/><br/>With that, a salmon-colored bolt of light shot from his hand and struck the stag. Instantly, it rose to its feet and shook its head, as though sloughing off a bad dream.

<br/><br/>I guess the stories were wrong, I thought, until he cackled and loosed a white bolt from his other hand, striking the stag down again. Maybe they weren't so wrong after all."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_50_Dazzle_LocHeroName"		"Dazzle"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_51_Clockwerk_LocFieldNotes"		"Rattletrap seemed to repeat, \"Don't touch that\" with every gear-filled horror I moved to inspect closer in his horror-filled workshop. I told him I had no intention of ever doing so. I was no fool. But I also understood his warnings were a form of braggadocio wrapped in concern.

<br/><br/>Admittedly his self-assuredness is well-earned. And, based on the number of mangling deaths attributed to Rattletrap, his advice was well-warranted. When I asked if spots on and around the inventions were blood or rust, he simply nodded his head and smiled, as if we were sharing an inside joke. I realized that some test subjects may not have received the same warning I'd gotten.

<br/><br/>No, Rattletrap wasn't actually bothered by innocent people being minced in his workshop, but he was aware that it didn't always help the Keens' already tenuous reputation.

<br/><br/>\"The last thing I need is a buncha villagers showing up with torches and pitchforks,\" he grumbled. \"Moving all this shit's a pain in the ass.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_51_Clockwerk_LocHeroName"		"Clockwerk"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_52_Leshrac_LocFieldNotes"		"They say true wisdom is knowing that you know nothing. So what do you call it when you know too much?

<br/><br/>According to legend, the former philosopher Leshrac bears that curse. Seeking to uncover the mysteries of nature, he gazed into the Chronoptic Crystals – haunted stones fabled to offer a glimpse at the heart of all creation.

<br/><br/>What he saw was so perverse, it split his mind in two. Now his consciousness dwells between realms, both of them wicked and merciless to their core.

<br/><br/>These days, some call him the Tormented Soul. It may sound dramatic, but those who have encountered him and lived to tell the tale say the title isn't overly sensational. If anything, they say it's more like a diagnosis.

<br/><br/>As the story goes, his learnings didn't drive him mad so much as they drove him CRUEL. If he must know the bitter truths that poisoned his mind, he reasons, it's only fair that others share his pain. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_52_Leshrac_LocHeroName"		"Leshrac"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_53_NaturesProphet_LocFieldNotes"		"One cannot miss the many painted signs when entering the Manglewood Forest.

<br/><br/>\"He Demands You Leave Nothing Behind,\" read one. \"He Demands You Chop Nothing Down,\" read another. \"He Demands You Pick Nothing To Eat,\" read a third.

<br/><br/>These weren't telling visitors to stay away, they were telling visitors to mind themselves and not do unnecessary harm. Alone, each placard might have been easy to dismiss as some village elder protecting his land. But this was the Manglewood Forest, a place far from any town of significance and one filled with gnarled, frankly unwelcoming foliage. Only a fool would test the threat behind these written pleas, and I am no fool.

<br/><br/>I entered the forest with prudence and, unsurprisingly, I soon found a caravan of fools. Vines thicker than my legs bound their corpses to the ground. Finger-like branches gripped the travelers' axes, now forever embedded in the moss-covered flesh of their necks. Mushrooms sprouted from their mouths.

<br/><br/>I grabbed a spare board and hastily scrawled a fourth sign, then placed it near the wreckage: \"Please Read The Signs.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_53_NaturesProphet_LocHeroName"		"Nature's Prophet"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_54_Lifestealer_LocFieldNotes"		"Drom, the Butcher of Barrowhaven, was a hulk of a man with a stern brow and a brawler's flattened nose. Still, he fidgeted, his bulging eyes darting around his dingy cell.  

<br/><br/>\"Devarque dungeon's the last stop for us who gets sent here,\" he said. \"I'm in my cell when I hears this commotion. I peeks out and them guards, they's just butcherin' each other. Us prisoners, we all starts cheerin'. Bout time they got theirs. But then it gets real quiet. And then I saw it.\"

<br/><br/>A guard, in some sort of trance, had opened its cell. He was promptly torn apart.

<br/><br/>\"Thing was tall, but more'n that, it was LONG. Teeth upon teeth. Bone where skin ought've been. Eyes intent on doin' harm,\" Drom gulped.

<br/><br/>The next morning, the prison chaplain came to deliver his morning sermon. After vomiting at the carnage, he suggested it was divine retribution.

<br/><br/>\"But any gods that would allow that thing to exist ain't worth prayin' to,\" Drom shuddered.

<br/><br/>The chaplain thought it was a sign. He offered the prisoners their freedom. Drom alone stayed.

<br/><br/>\"Long as that thing's out there,\" he said, \"I'm stayin' in here.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_54_Lifestealer_LocHeroName"		"Lifestealer"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_55_DarkSeer_LocFieldNotes"		"\"One more match,\" Ish'Kafel the Dark Seer insists.

<br/><br/>He's just challenged me to a fourth round of some strategy game in which we commanded armies of replicas on a battlefield. I'd lost the first three so quickly, I wonder how he—a great war strategist—could even take joy in it.

<br/><br/>\"War is not about joy,\" he chastises me when I ask. \"And a sharp mind can uncover new strategies even when facing off against a foe whose mind is puny.\"

<br/><br/>Hmm. Well, if it's not about joy, playing the game at least seems to calm him. As we play and I lose, he opens up about his past.

<br/><br/>Before gaining the ability to command energy, he recalls, children from his home plane first master their bodies. Ish'Kafel trained in numerous martial arts and won a realm-wide combat festival called Lekel D'vit (loosely translated: Open Brawl?). Which is why he rarely strikes a foe physically. \"Wouldn't be fair,\" he smirks.

<br/><br/>Besides, he finds outthinking his enemies more rewarding than simply out-punching them. 

<br/><br/>\"You see, you left your left flank unguarded, which makes your forces vulnerable,\" he says, as he outflanks my General with a diagonal pincer movement of his South Cavalry I'd completely forgotten existed. 

<br/><br/>\"One more match.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_55_DarkSeer_LocHeroName"		"Dark Seer"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_56_Clinkz_LocFieldNotes"		"Only a tar-laden place like the Hoven could produce a creature like Clinkz, and only its people could love him. The lush forest, pockmarked by puddles of black, brings to mind a slumbering god trapped in some sort of cosmic pubescence—always changing but never changed.

<br/><br/>It would be easy to assume this land is at war with itself, but outside of ruining your boots if you're not careful, the Hoven has found a strange equilibrium.

<br/><br/>It's ironic that by defending this equilibrium, Clinkz now stands between a state of life and death himself. Stories from outside of this place tell of a fiery demon who relishes in firing holes in the chests of kind, innocent travelers.

<br/><br/>I had expected little else and, for once, I was wrong. Clinkz was no demon; he had slain one, and was burned alive in the process. Gifted eternal life for his victory—both a blessing and a curse given his current blazing form—he is a sleepless protector, the fire around his head as much a warning to those who'd harm the Hoven as it is a beacon of hope to those who call it home. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_56_Clinkz_LocHeroName"		"Clinkz"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_57_Omniknight_LocFieldNotes"		"I fell in with a ragged line of pilgrims trudging toward the high cliffs of Emauracus, where the priests of the Omniscience dwell. The trek cost me weeks, a good pair of sandals and half my patience, but it would be worth every blister to gain a little background on Purist Thunderwrath, the Omniknight.

<br/><br/>At last the cliffs loomed: sheer, jagged stone, riddled with caverns like deep-set, watchful eyes. Hierophants welcomed the supplicants into the caves, where they hoped to receive visions. I sidled up to a junior priest and asked about Omniknight.

<br/><br/>\"He came questioning,\" he said. \"We prepared to cast him into the pit of sacrifice.\"

<br/><br/>Then, sensing my look, he added, \"as is proper with doubters. But then he glowed with the Omniscience's favor, and we knew he was chosen to meet the All Seeing One.\" He looked me over, frowning slightly. \"If you have further questions, I could arrange a tour of the pit of sacrifice.\"

<br/><br/>I suddenly realized I had all the background on Omniknight I needed. I smiled and thanked the priest for his time. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_57_Omniknight_LocHeroName"		"Omniknight"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_58_Enchantress_LocFieldNotes"		"Aiushtha first greeted me in a large verdant glade in the dense depths of the Nightsilver Woods – a hidden heathland that I would never have found, had a veritable menagerie of sprites not led me there.

<br/><br/>\"I heard you came seeking me,\" she said. Her voice was pleasant and put me at ease instantly. \"I sent my friends to bring you here. What is it you desire?\"

<br/><br/>Her woodland companions chirped, twittered and cooed in euphoric awe. I had heard the Enchantress could control weak-minded beings. Seeing how completely she enraptured these feeble-brained creatures first-hand was remarkable.

<br/><br/>\"I wish to write of your exploits,\" I bowed. \"For posterity's sake.\"

<br/><br/>She smiled warmly, and her singsong voice filled my ears once more.

<br/><br/>\"My story is long and of no import,\" she cooed. \"But the tales of the creatures around us – those are worth hearing.\"

<br/><br/>And of course, she was right. It was clear she knew better than your humble scribe. Mistress always knows best."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_58_Enchantress_LocHeroName"		"Enchantress"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_59_Huskar_LocFieldNotes"		"I'd been warned about the dangers of the Howling Weald—ogres, dire wolves, hellbears—so I wasn't eager to track Huskar there. Unfortunately, that's where Huskar was.

<br/><br/>Luckily, Huskar himself was friendlier than I'd expected. Hunched over a blazing campfire, he seemed almost eager to share a meal and his tale. As he began speaking of his travels, however, we were set upon by a pack of hungry wolves.

<br/><br/>I figured I'd penned my last dispatch as they circled. A single fighter, no matter how skilled, was no match for the dozen giant canines that surrounded us. The first leapt upon him, knocking him down. I was surely next.

<br/><br/>But as the pack leader bit into Huskar's meaty shoulder, the berserker's muscles rippled and stretched. In a flash, the wolf had been kicked across the clearing. Another lunged for me, only for its throat to meet, with alarming suddenness, Huskar's obsidian dagger. 

<br/><br/>Still more wolves came. Still more wolves fell. Every bite, every mauling seemed to redouble the berserker's fury.

<br/><br/>By the time the final wolf slinked away, Huskar stood, bloodied but somehow looking stronger than before. As his eyes shimmered with rage, I decided I'd slink off, too."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_59_Huskar_LocHeroName"		"Huskar"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_5_CrystalMaiden_LocFieldNotes"		"Blueheart Glacier is frigid at the best of times, but Rylai makes its windswept crest feel that much colder.

<br/><br/>\"Did my sister send you?\" she asks. She has a twinkle in her eye but a steel-sharp edge to her voice. I can't tell whether she likes me or is about to murder me. Or both.

<br/><br/>\"Of course not,\" she answers herself with a giggle. \"If my sister had sent you, you would have tried to kill me by now.

<br/><br/>\"And then I would have had to kill you.\"

<br/><br/>Now her voice is sing-songy, but her clear blue eyes hint at something else. I'm not sure what, but the chill that runs down my spine isn't due to the frosty climate.

<br/><br/>The spell breaks. The hint disappears. \"Anyway, I'm warden of this realm and you'd better state your business,\" she says, happy again.

<br/><br/>I try to explain my mission – chronicling the tales of the world's greatest heroes – but Rylai loses interest about halfway through my first sentence.

<br/><br/>\"Good luck with that! You can see yourself out,\" she gestures, not acknowledging – or noticing? – that we're already outside. \"If you see my sister, tell her to come visit sometime!\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_5_CrystalMaiden_LocHeroName"		"Crystal Maiden"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_5_CrystalMaiden_LocPersonaFieldNotes"		"I had come to speak with the Ice Wizard, hoping that his rumored thousand-year hibernation here at the Blueheart Glacier included <i>some</i> wakeful hours. If not, I guess I had come to look at the Ice Wizard.

<br/><br/>What found me instead was the Icewrack Wolf: its pelt the color of a moonlit frost field, its sapphire eyes as penetrating as an auger boring a frozen slab.

<br/><br/>\"Have you come seeking power?\" it asked. I nearly toppled backward into the swirling snow.

<br/><br/>\"In a sense,\" I said, struggling to regain my cool. \"If knowledge counts as power.\"

<br/><br/>The wolf's eyes narrowed, and then its gaze drifted to the Glacier. \"Knowledge is crystalline clarity. But knowledge is also crushing weight. It preserves ... but also imprisons.\"

<br/><br/>Then it shook frost from its fur and padded off into the snow. I shivered—not from the cold—and realized I might have been looking for the wrong ice wizard all along. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_60_NightStalker_LocFieldNotes"		"The Order of Balanar is nomadic, its few dozen members traveling to wherever the day is shortest. When I encounter them at dusk, they've set up camp on the frigid northernmost edge of Iceblight Plateau.

<br/><br/>Given the cold, a fire would be welcome. But any source of light is forbidden within Night Stalker's cult.

<br/><br/>I meet Paz, an elder among the group, who has shown her devotion to the darkness by gouging out her own eyes.

<br/><br/>\"Have you embraced the night?\" she asks brightly. I lie and say I have.

<br/><br/>\"Good,\" she smiles a grim, thin-lipped grin. \"When He arrives, you will be rewarded.\"

<br/><br/>The reward, she claims, is a rapturous death and an eternal place at Balanar's side. But legend clearly says he stalks alone — leaving a non-cult member to wonder why, exactly, they're so confident he'll be eager for company.

<br/><br/>As the last sliver of sun bows behind a rocky crag, the cold swells and the dim light recedes further. Paz's wretched, eyeless smile makes me shiver more than the cursed cold.

<br/><br/>\"He comes,\" she whispers, hopefully."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_60_NightStalker_LocHeroName"		"Night Stalker"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_61_Broodmother_LocFieldNotes"		"The roadworn sign for \"Kuz Borst's Traveling Circus of Bizarrities\" swings in time with dusk-fed gusts. \"Vat you vant know of Black Arachnia?\" Kuz asks, glancing nervously at Redmaw's deepening shadows. 

<br/><br/>The only adventurer ever known to have escaped with a hoard of Ptholopthales' magnetic wealth, he converted it into the premier rarities collection this side of Icewrack. Then, the huckster pressed his luck further, returning to Pyrotheos to \"draft\" Broodmother's children into his show. He's been on the run ever since. 

<br/><br/>\"How many did you... spidernap?\" 

<br/><br/>\"Is almost zero, I svear. Is barely...two hundred?\"

<br/><br/>He'd snuck into a lava tube while Broodmother played with her food (an unlucky hippogriff). \"Alvays her eyes seek next meal but ven she start cocoon prey, is compulsion, can not stop till finish.\" That's when he nabbed them. 

<br/><br/>Kuz slaps his drays forward. I wish him luck. 

<br/><br/>The sound of huge, scuttling legs echo through the pass before they're punctured by a rage-filled shriek. 

<br/><br/>I should have specified <i>good</i> luck. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_61_Broodmother_LocHeroName"		"Broodmother"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_62_BountyHunter_LocFieldNotes"		"Despite Goodkind's great interest and repeated requests, I refuse to look any further into Gondar, the Bounty Hunter. Again and again, I've told her he isn't real. I should know; I already went to great lengths to try to find him. 

<br/><br/>Ask a dozen bandits and you'll get a dozen different descriptions of Gondar: tall, short, slender, stout, green, red... Each bandit will assure you they absolutely, positively witnessed him with their own eyes. One thief swore on his godfather's grave that Gondar was a living shadow. I've met a living shadow, and they're easier to find evidence of than this so-called bounty hunter.

<br/><br/>Even Gondar's morality depends on who's telling the tale. He seems to murder only the worst criminals or only the sweetest couriers or, somehow, only the sweetest criminals. It's all pure nonsense. At this point, I would stake my reputation on Gondar existing solely in the minds of anxious outlaws trying to keep their aspiring cutpurse children in line. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_62_BountyHunter_LocHeroName"		"Bounty Hunter"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_63_Weaver_LocFieldNotes"		"Thaddeus Greymantle is the Dean of Ontic Studies at Ultimyr University. It's said that his Advanced Thaumaturgical Cosmology class has had only five students pass in the entire 42 years he's taught it. It's not that he's a tough grader. It's more that Ultimyr doesn't like sharing the secrets of weaving the fabric of reality itself unless you can prove you're not going to get a word wrong in your spells.

<br/><br/>Thaddeus, it turns out, did his doctoral thesis on the Weavers, and his eyes light up in recognition when I ask. The Weavers, he explains, are custodians of existence itself. They aren't architects, and they aren't gods — to a Weaver, the universe is cloth stretched across a great loom. They mend rents where time wears thin; tighten sagging stitches; reinforce faded regions before something dark, unmentionable, and not from our plane of existence sneaks through. <br/><br/>

<br/><br/>It sounds like a thankless and repetitive job, and while Thaddeus is quick to paint Skitskurr as a villain, it's hard to deny any one of us might give in to the same temptation. Skitskurr was one of the best Weavers — but he grew restless with patching the same holes over and over for eternity. He grew bored of mere maintenance of reality. He longed to create one of his own.

<br/><br/>His experiments started small, but it didn't take long for the guardians to notice. He'd restitched too much of the pattern of the universe, and the threads led back to him. The guardians cut his world away, exiling him out of the overworld, and into the mistake of a world he may or may not have made: ours. 

<br/><br/>Thaddeus doesn't teach any classes on Skitskurr. The fewer who know his story, the safer the weave remains. \"Our reality might not be perfect,\" he says, \"but I tend to prefer it the way it is.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_63_Weaver_LocHeroName"		"Weaver"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_64_Jakiro_LocFieldNotes"		"Thirty turns deep into Revtel's infamous merchant's maze, a battered sign announces \"Brambletine & Sons,\" though the \"Brambletine\" is crossed out, as is the \"s\" at the end of \"sons.\" 

<br/><br/>The sign hangs over a small, drab cottage. When your business is dragon meat, it pays to keep a low, dragon-free profile. 

<br/><br/>\"The writer, huh?\" says a man I assume is the last son as he hacks forlornly at a small, scaly thigh.

<br/><br/>\"Right, so fire dragon meat's good an' spicy,\" he boasts. \"Ice dragons, that's a different kinda spicy. But one that's ice AND fire? Well, that'd be BIG money.\"

<br/><br/>So the Brambletines set out to find Jakiro, spotted him staggering in the distance, apparently already near death. They tracked him through a pass, only to find they'd been played. Jakiro had feigned injury to lure them in, then one head torched his dad and half his brothers while the other froze the rest like ants in amber. 

<br/><br/>\"The family business ain't what it used to be,\" Son sighs. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_64_Jakiro_LocHeroName"		"Jakiro"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_65_Batrider_LocFieldNotes"		"Though I have been reliably informed that Batrider \"is an idiot\" and \"a coward,\" he is at least crafty, for he is proving impossible to find. 

<br/><br/>I'm crouched behind a vine-covered rock near the far edge of the Yama Raskav. \"This is the best spot fer Batrider watchin,'\" insists my guide, an overeager marshbarley farmer, as he peers over the rock. 

<br/><br/>As a youth, Batrider had spent his days burning down groves of balliboo trees to make way for his family's sablecane fields. His father, by all accounts a walking tankard of ale, was demanding and strict with the lad he knew only as \"kid.\"

<br/><br/>One day, Batrider's manic firestarting upset a nest of morde-bats. One grabbed him and flew skyward, looking to dash the youngster on rocks to feed its babies. 

<br/><br/>\"Most folks just panic like mad once a morde-bat gets 'em,\" my guide whispers, scanning the horizon. \"Not Batrider.\"

<br/><br/>Instead, the lad managed to wriggle free of the bat's grip and clamber onto its back. Using its ears, he \"steered\" it to his father's hut and dropped a firepouch on the family abode. That morde-bat ate its first and only hot meal before Batrider hacked its head off.

<br/><br/>\"Then, Batrider went back and—\"

<br/><br/>The whooshing of giant wings and a maniacal cackle high overhead hushes my guide.

<br/><br/>\"I think he just comes back to make sure his dad's dead,\" my guide whispers, awestruck, as we watch a figure arc through the sky.

<br/><br/>Post-script: I have been reliably informed and reminded by my reliable informant that, in addition to being an idiot and coward, Batrider is also scared of Axe. I have been reliably informed I should write this down while my informant watches. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_65_Batrider_LocHeroName"		"Batrider"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_66_Chen_LocFieldNotes"		"When I'd first heard the rumors about Chen, a former outlaw who had converted to the side of holy justice, I was suspicious. I learned a long time ago that knights in shining armor usually bear no small amount of tarnish.

<br/><br/>None of the villagers willing to take my coin had encountered Chen themselves, but most knew of a friend or relative who had set out to find him in hopes of converting to his righteous cause. As expected, none had returned. So off I went, searching.

<br/><br/>I realized I was on the right path when I found the bloody spot where a few hopeful acolytes' pilgrimage had violently ended. An interview with Chen now seemed...unwise. So I clambered up the nearest tree. 

<br/><br/>From that vantage point, I witnessed a weeping man begging. Whether for mercy or absolution, I'll never know.

<br/><br/>With a flash of light, Chen converted this one as he had the others, the steaming corpse bringing Chen's loyal animals out to feast. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_66_Chen_LocHeroName"		"Chen"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_67_Spectre_LocFieldNotes"		"For years, the tribes of Azmeddir and Muddaral warred. Their battles stretched across the hard sands of the Ruelands. It seemed no truce could be brokered until, suddenly, one was.

<br/><br/>The twin chieftains met me in a large tent, a town hall of sorts, in the settlement where the two sides now lived in an uneasy but forced harmony.

<br/><br/>\"Was no end fighting,\" said the Azmeddi chief. \"Fighting never end until one side gone.\" His face drops. \"Until her.\"

<br/><br/>From what I gather, Mercurial the Spectre was drawn to their unending conflict. The shadowy being simply appeared one day in the middle of a particularly bloody battle.

<br/><br/>\"Then, men start to die,\" the Muddar chief said, wide-eyed. \"No blade, no arrow, just die. She make men die.\"

<br/><br/>Shadows gripped the warriors, their own blades turned against them, many went mad. Helpless, the warring tribes agreed to a hasty truce.

<br/><br/>\"She sent by one true god Rah'kazal, tell us not fight,\" the Azmeddi chief said.

<br/><br/>\"No!\" shouted the Muddar chief angrily. \"Sent by one true god Ek'tobar!\"

<br/><br/>As their voices grew louder and more strident, I left them to hash out their latest disagreement."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_67_Spectre_LocHeroName"		"Spectre"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_68_AncientApparition_LocFieldNotes"		"Historians say Kaldr was forged from the cold void, that it birthed him as both an envoy and a warning. Sages say he is the cold's purest form, here to freeze the world into nothing but ice.

<br/><br/>For the villagers of Trell, a small hamlet in the Hinterlands' Coldbank Plains, he was death itself.

<br/><br/>I heard he'd come to Trell two days ago. By the time I arrived this morning, the place still hadn't fully thawed. A few villagers and heads of cattle were still standing like statues, frozen mid-stride as they had tried to flee. Others had fallen over, shattering into shards as they did. The ground was sticky as their blood slowly turned from ice to liquid.

<br/><br/>One thing about Kaldr—he's as thorough as he is inscrutable. No survivors to speak of. No hint as to why he'd struck this hamlet. By all accounts, they were a peaceful people, so it's possible this is just what happens wherever he goes.

<br/><br/>If that's the case—if his destruction is less wanton than a byproduct of what he is—his motives will just have to remain unknown."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_68_AncientApparition_LocHeroName"		"Ancient Apparition"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_69_Doom_LocFieldNotes"		"They say Doom is the only living being who moves freely between the seven hells. That meant I didn't have a hope in seven hells of tracking him down. Instead, I started at the beginning: At the crater.

<br/><br/>\"Crater\" is accurate but it trivializes the scene. The open wound in the wasteland where he was hurled from heaven is still raw and blackened, with sand fused into glass ridges sharp enough to slice your finger, and hot air rippling with a burnt stench. It was as though not a day had passed by which the pit could heal. Most locals avoid the place.

<br/><br/>Most, but not all. An old herder claimed he'd seen the fall. \"He rose out of the fire, taking literally no damage. Except his wings were burned to smoking stumps. So some damage, I guess, now that I think about it. Oh, and his eyes were burning with hate.\" He thinks. \"A LOT of hate.\"

<br/><br/>But if the tales are true, he didn't rise out of the fire. He is the fire—devouring and merciless. It's not just that Doom wanders between hells. It's that he drags hell wherever he goes. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_69_Doom_LocHeroName"		"Doom"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_6_DrowRanger_LocFieldNotes"		"I met Traxex's family in a moss-roofed lodge under the pines, where the air was so thick with damp earth you could chew it. They were warm hosts—if a bit blunt.

<br/><br/>\"She was one of us from the start,\" her adoptive mother said, handing me a cup of hot mushroom tea. \"Quiet as a shadow, quick as a thought. We thought she was a changeling returned.\"

<br/><br/>Her uncle nodded. \"Traxex was a natural. By six, she could stalk a mouse across dry leaves.\" He took a sip. \"Shame about the face, though.\"

<br/><br/>Her aunt sighed. \"Both sides the same and not a wart or whisker on either. So plain. No wonder vanishing came so easily.\"

<br/><br/>They told me how she grew, towering over her kin, until her head brushed the rafters. One day, she stepped out and didn't come back. \"Can't say I blame her, always bangin' her head on everything,\" said her uncle. \"Poor gangly thing.\"

<br/><br/>\"She's still our Traxex, though,\" her mother said firmly. \"We miss her.\" She thought. \"Don't miss replacin' all those broke rafters, though.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_6_DrowRanger_LocHeroName"		"Drow Ranger"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_70_Ursa_LocFieldNotes"		"I met the survivor in a smoky tavern north of the timberline, one sleeve pinned up and one hand wrapped around a mug. He agreed to talk if I promised to write down his words exactly.

<br/><br/>\"We found tracks everywhere. Fat ones, big ones. My mates laughed about how the pickings would be easy. Well, they were.

<br/><br/>\"He came out of the dark like a landslide. Split Bjorn open from collar to crotch. The meat fell out like a butcher's stall tipped over. Bit Torsten clean through the head. Made a wet noise like a ripe melon on cobblestones. Jannik ran. His legs made it ten paces. The rest of him only made it five.

<br/><br/>\"Me, he took the arm. Snapped it off at the shoulder, neat as anything. I screamed. He didn't care. Just leaned in close. Hot breath. He said: 'Go. Spread the word. This land is no hunting ground.'\"

<br/><br/>He lifted his mug again, almost cheerfully. \"So here I am. Spreading it.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_70_Ursa_LocHeroName"		"Ursa"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_71_SpiritBreaker_LocFieldNotes"		"I passed by a demolished merchant caravan just east of the Kalabor Oasis. I was following a set of deep hoofprints I only half-hoped would lead me to Barathrum the Spirit Breaker. Human footprints scattered in every other direction.

<br/><br/>The caravan had been carrying treasures of great value—gemstones, jewelry, fine carpets—now strewn among the debris. They'd been abandoned in favor of the merchants' lives.

<br/><br/>Barathrum was scraping dirt from his hooves when I approached as cautiously as I could.

<br/><br/>\"It was the master's bidding,\" he replied, when I asked why he'd laid waste to the caravan. \"If the master bids it, it is done.\"

<br/><br/>I asked who his master was. He gazed skyward. His prolonged silence made it unclear whether he himself knew, but very clear that even if he did, he wasn't about to tell me.

<br/><br/>\"I am but an envoy,\" he said finally, proudly. \"Destruction brings me no joy, unless it is in His service.\"

<br/><br/>Then his eyes darkened. \"The master says you may live.\"

<br/><br/>This was good news. I smiled.

<br/><br/>\"If you leave now.\"

<br/><br/>I decided not to linger with goodbyes and broke into a sprint. There was no way to actually outrun him if he decided to give chase, obviously. It was a gesture of respect to let him know he wouldn't have to."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_71_SpiritBreaker_LocHeroName"		"Spirit Breaker"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_72_Gyrocopter_LocFieldNotes"		"The Keen Folk love nothing more than to blow things up. Making things explode is a family tradition — a grenade tossed lovingly from generation to generation. It's a source of pride among the Keen to invent a new law of detonation.

<br/><br/>Somehow, Aurel managed to set his goals even higher than that: He wanted to learn how to fly. To taste the wind in his teeth, hear the roar of the propellers in his ears, and feel the bombs leaving his hands as they dropped on his unsuspecting victims below. 

<br/><br/>\"Everyone told him it couldn't be done,\" said Dervil Swiftcrack. \"And we Keen Folk are pretty gullible. We think anything can be done. So that's saying something.\"

<br/><br/>Then, one day, Aurel was simply gone. The workshop lay silent, a set of propeller blades leaning against the wall next to a sad pile of undetonated bombs. Around the tavern fires the talk turned mean: The fool must have exiled himself out of shame. 

<br/><br/>The next morning, when the looming shadow passed over the square for the first time, nobody even knew enough to scatter. And then something fell from the sky. Followed by another something. Followed by a lot of somethings."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_72_Gyrocopter_LocHeroName"		"Gyrocopter"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_73_Alchemist_LocFieldNotes"		"Razzil Darkbrew's laboratory looked like a workshop built in a junkyard during an earthquake. Crates of minerals teetered beside hissing copper stills. Bottles glimmered in every color, some vibrating faintly. The air smelled of burnt fennel, boiled lizard and bad ideas.

<br/><br/>His ogre companion—half accomplice, half pack animal—wore a small, stained apron, his expression midway between curiosity and hunger. The Smallkeen bounded over, clutching a fizzy blue flask. \"Perfect timing! We're testing something.\"

<br/><br/>Before I could object, vials were poured, toasts made. The concoction tasted sharp and metallic, like an electric shock dipped in mango juice.

<br/><br/>Instantly my voice shot into a mouse's squeak. The ogre's: a preposterous falsetto. Razzil mouthed excited, soundless words; a nearby dog howled. We locked eyes—then collapsed in shrill laughter.

<br/><br/>\"This,\" Razzil wheezed, \"was supposed to make us fly.\"

<br/><br/>As I joined in the laughter, my eyes drifted absently to one of Razzil's elixir shelves—some rainbow-colored, one glowing invitingly. And then, behind those, almost invisible to the eye... were other bottles. Bottles with skeleton-shaped glyphs on the labels. Bottles quietly bubbling. One that looked like it held an inky void with a single suspended pale star. One that seemed to be staring back.  

<br/><br/>My stomach knotted. On the surface, Razzil's experiments seemed harmless, even fun. But I couldn't help wondering what I might find if I looked at some of the potion shelves hidden in the room marked DO NOT ENTER. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_73_Alchemist_LocHeroName"		"Alchemist"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_74_Invoker_LocFieldNotes"		"As Invoker spoke, the magic orbs around him lit up and dimmed and changed color, as if to emphasize the emotion of his stories. By the tenth hour of our interview, it began to dawn on me, with slow horror, that the man might never stop talking.

<br/><br/>He was proud of his exploits—and they were impressive, I cannot deny him that. The life story of a nearly immortal mage, it turns out, takes a little time to tell. And Invoker has a legendary memory; he's able to recall almost every detail of almost every experience he's had in what I am learning is a very adventurous, very interesting, and very very long life.

<br/><br/>Of course, adventurous and interesting would be how he would describe it. Listening to it without interlude, the more apt term that came to mind was \"arduous.\" My hand began to ache and, upon noticing this, Invoker asked if I wanted him to cast a spell to have my quill write on its own.

<br/><br/>Out of professionalism, I reluctantly declined. As the sun rose on day two of the interview, I sorely regretted this choice. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_74_Invoker_LocHeroName"		"Invoker"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_74_Invoker_LocPersonaFieldNotes"		"\"I didn't mean for it to go that far,\" Carl cried over the smoldering ruin of a highwayman. It was clear to me that, despite all his bragging, he'd never actually killed someone before. Wiping tears away, he told me it wasn't fair for someone to \"just jump out at us like that.\"

<br/><br/>Since \"arriving\" in our time a few weeks earlier, Carl had been largely kept for study at Ultimyr Academy. Both for his study of the mystical arts and the other wizards' study of this preternaturally gifted young mage. 

<br/><br/>Magically transporting to distant lands is difficult for even the most powerful wizard, let alone moving eons into the future. But here was this child, a very loud, very brash boy who did it on his own.

<br/><br/>Elders at the academy failed to replicate Carl's spell, while the Invoker of our time refused to believe he was anything but a strange imposter. Frustrated, Carl at last demanded a journey outside, vowing that \"this time, I'll prove myself to you.\"

<br/><br/>What happened those other times, Carl refused to say. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_75_Silencer_LocFieldNotes"		"Like most homes in the Hazhadal tent city, trying to keep the sand out is a losing battle. I brush as much as I can off my square cushion, then give up.

<br/><br/>My host is Abagard, the last living instructor of the once great school of war-mages, the Aeol Drias order. I had come to ask him about Nortrom, the greatest war-mage the Aeol Drias had ever produced. 

<br/><br/>\"The Aeol Drias did produce the greatest war-mage, it is true,\" Abagard gives a thin smile. \"But not through scholarly instruction.\" He coughs with slight embarrassment. \"We... bred him to be our champion. For two hundred years, line upon line, pairing upon pairing. He was not born. We made him.\"

<br/><br/>Nortrom proved an obedient pupil. But reality proved less obedient. By his seventh year in the Aeol Drias, Nortrom was failing even the most rudimentary magic test. The student they'd bred for centuries to be the culmination of their order couldn't cast a spell to save his life. 

<br/><br/>\"I was <i>sure</i> I'd gotten the lineages correct. But all the signs were there. We'd failed.\" He sighs. \"That's what we thought until Crucible Day.\" 

<br/><br/>Turns out he was just a late bloomer. The students squared off to demonstrate their skills. No one expected anything from Nortrom. But as the aspiring mages started their incantations, Nortrom focused. Suddenly, on the proving grounds, he wasn't just the best mage. He was the only mage. No one else could cast a spell. And certainly not to save their lives.

<br/><br/>\"On the bright side,\" Abagard sighs, \"He did graduate.\"

<br/><br/>I nod and sip at my sand milk. Very sandy. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_75_Silencer_LocHeroName"		"Silencer"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_76_OutworldDestroyer_LocFieldNotes"		"I'd asked around for weeks, hoping to find anyone who had survived an encounter with Outworld Destroyer. Finally, a wandering merchant told me his brother had somehow done just that.

<br/><br/>\"My brother Traymont was the inquisitive type,\" he said. \"Always looking for new adventures. In his travels, he happened upon a town the Destroyer was ... destroying.\"

<br/><br/>He told me where I could find his brother if I wanted an interview.

<br/><br/>\"Good luck,\" he added sadly before continuing on his way.

<br/><br/>I met Traymont in the drab, sterile asylum where he now lives. When I greeted him, he turned his shaved head to look at me. Or past me.

<br/><br/>\"Going to get you,\" he said, his voice barely a whisper. \"Going to get us all.\"

<br/><br/>Some academics theorize that Outworld Destroyer came from beyond the sun, from the edge of the abyss itself. That he patrolled that distant area, waiting. For what? A few believe he's the herald of some evil so pervasive it will consume the world. Others refuse to ponder the possibilities too deeply, if at all. But the scrawny, wide-eyed man sitting before me apparently had his own theory.

<br/><br/>\"Can't escape,\" he croaked. \"Too late. It's already coming.\"

<br/><br/>I wasn't going to get much information here. As I walked out, Traymont started chuckling. His laugh grew to a maniacal cackle. \"It's already coming!\" he screamed over and over again between laughs."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_76_OutworldDestroyer_LocHeroName"		"Outworld Destroyer"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_77_Lycan_LocFieldNotes"		"The light from my dwindling campfire in a clearing deep in the Western Forest brings reflections from the treeline: A pair of glowing eyes. Then a second pair joins the first, and a third the second, until finally a constellation.

<br/><br/>My hand falls on the short knife I carry with me, but as the first giant wolf pours itself out of the forest like a living shadow, I drop the blade in terror. It pads confidently over to me, but it's not growling or menacing. It seems ... curious? I whimper and turn my head as it gets close enough to sniff me. When I open my eyes after what feels like aeons, I look back to see a fanged man standing there. The other wolves disperse.

<br/><br/>\"This forest is a dangerous place for one such as yourself,\" he growls.

<br/><br/>He introduces himself as Banehallow of House Ambry. I'd heard how his family had risen up against a mad king. How he alone from his lineage survived, but how the king's mages had cursed him with lycanthropy. I'd heard the story, but still had another question.

<br/><br/>\"When you change...\" I ventured. \"...doesn't it hurt?\"

<br/><br/>\"More than you will ever know,\" he says somberly. \"Every time, it hurts.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_77_Lycan_LocHeroName"		"Lycan"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_78_Brewmaster_LocFieldNotes"		"Beneath the ivy-eaten arches of the Ruined City, I found Mangix the Brewmaster. He agreed to an interview on one condition: that we drink together.

<br/><br/>\"The Oyo,\" he began, setting down mugs, \"drink to speak to the spirits.\" The ale reminded me of him: golden brown, a bit nutty, alarmingly strong. \"I'm half Celestial, so I see further into the other realm. It helps.\"

<br/><br/>After a few sips, I began to see into other realms too. It wasn't helpful.

<br/><br/>By the second round, he's (they're? there's two now) telling me how he'd beaten the old master in a fistfight/drinking contest. \"Not easy,\" the Mangixes (mangices?) say. \"Lots of falling over.\" I nod. Maybe too much.

<br/><br/>Somewhere round four, mangix says hes looking for single perfect thought to unite physcial and spiritual realms. i say its probly under table.

<br/><br/>By roun five mangx pating me on shoulder. You did good hes say then table spin arooound & slide off to nightnigh"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_78_Brewmaster_LocHeroName"		"Brewmaster"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_79_ShadowDemon_LocFieldNotes"		"I wasn't about to try to pry information about Shadow Demon out of the cult that follows him, but I'd heard of one rogue cultist who'd fled their ranks. I'd been working for weeks to track her down.

<br/><br/>Someone leaving the Order of the Umbral Mist was unheard of, so I was skeptical. The rogue cultist was also skeptical, but of me, my repeated attempts to find her, and my intentions. She'd been running since the day she left. It took weeks of coded correspondence, dead drops, and a lot of reassurance to finally arrange a meeting in a far-flung hovel, in a location I promised I wouldn't divulge.

<br/><br/>When I got there, a dagger glinted in her hand, and out of her eyes. She had the wild, hunted stare of a prey animal.

<br/><br/>\"I ran when my parents volunteered me as sacrifice,\" she squeaked meekly, jumping in abject terror at every sound. \"I'd seen how the poison they give to sacrifices corrupted them... tormented them... <i>killed</i> them.\"

<br/><br/>The cult made their sacrifices to help bring about the end of days, she said, not just for this world but for all worlds. It was their god's greatest hope.

<br/><br/>A rustle from outside and she jumped to her feet, drawing her blade to her own throat. Thick blood flowed down to her elbow before I could stop her."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_79_ShadowDemon_LocHeroName"		"Shadow Demon"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_7_Earthshaker_LocFieldNotes"		"I found him in a quake-carved valley, the air gritty with crushed stone and fresh upheaval. The Nishai peaks loomed above, still sneezing little avalanches. He calls himself Raigor Stonehoof; others call him Earthshaker.

<br/><br/>He's a little unresponsive. To be fair, he's literally made of stone. So I talked to his friends.

<br/><br/>\"We follow orders,\" said a golem. \"He made himself. He's not like us.\"

<br/><br/>A gargoyle nodded. \"We stand guard. Raigor walks free.\"

<br/><br/>One year the peaks went berserk: avalanches roared, the earth unzipped, current maps found their way to junkheaps. When the dust cleared, Earthshaker emerged, shrugging off a mountain and brushing boulders from his shoulders. Word is, he'd been patiently assembling himself in a womb of bedrock.

<br/><br/>After a silence measured in geological time, he decided I was worth acknowledging. \"I am both stone and bone,\" he said. \"I live, I bleed, and someday I will die. When I return to dust, I'll just be going home.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_7_Earthshaker_LocHeroName"		"Earthshaker"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_80_LoneDruid_LocFieldNotes"		"One moment I was scribbling notes on a mossy ridge, the next I was flattened behind a gnarled pine, heart hammering. They say when you encounter a bear in the wild, if it's brown, lay down; if it's black, fight back. But a bear made of spirits? There isn't a rhyme for that, so let me be the first: Fear it.

<br/><br/>The old man Sylla arrived without hurry. He seemed unpracticed with non-ursine company but welcomed it nonetheless. His bear ambled to a nearby stream and returned with a fish, which Sylla ate raw while we talked. I took notes of our conversation, trying to ignore the bear taking note of me.

<br/><br/>He spoke of his long-vanished Bear Clan, and of his charge: to guard a sacred seed and plant it only when the world lay desolate. Eventually, I persuaded him to show me the seed. It looked like a seed.

<br/><br/>He'd been waiting a long time. Hopefully, he'd have to wait eons more. And as he finished eating, bade me farewell and vanished into the trees, I wondered what else he did in the woods. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_80_LoneDruid_LocHeroName"		"Lone Druid"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_81_ChaosKnight_LocFieldNotes"		"I run.

<br/><br/>As a squadron of cavalrymen on massive black steeds chase me down across the Fields of Carnage, I run. I know I can't outpace them, but even if I could, it turns out it wouldn't have mattered. The horsemen simply disappear and reappear in front of me. The foremost horse dissipates as I skid right through him before crashing headlong into the massive steed behind him.

<br/><br/>Winded and a bit stunned, I stagger to my feet. I'd dropped my torch as I was running, but the fiery eyes of rider and steed alike provide a dismal light by which I can barely see.

<br/><br/>\"You are no being of the Light,\" the rider growls. I'm not sure whether to take offense, but even if I did, I'm not about to show it.

<br/><br/>\"Your mortal ways are beneath me. You matter not.\"

<br/><br/>Okay, that one stings a little.

<br/><br/>\"The Light shall fall beneath my blade. Its adherents shall return to dust.\"

<br/><br/>With that, the other horsemen vanish. Chaos Knight's steed turns and charges off, leaving me alone in the dark. And if that means he's not coming back, the dark's just fine. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_81_ChaosKnight_LocHeroName"		"Chaos Knight"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_82_Meepo_LocFieldNotes"		"As we entered his shack built from disparate, scavenged materials, Meepo giggled. \"Welcome! Welcome! Take a seat!\" he said, motioning towards what looked like a rotting throne from some long dead civilization.

<br/><br/>\"No, thank you. I prefer to stand,\" I winced, to Meepo's seeming delight.

<br/><br/>He looked over my shoulder. When I followed his gaze, I saw another Meepo sitting on a cracked stool, smiling.

<br/><br/>\"Suit yourself,\" both said. The new Meepo dramatically stretched and yawned, putting his arms behind his head. Recognizing a distraction when I saw one, I turned to find a third Meepo rifling through my satchel, searching for anything worth stealing. When I reached out to grab him, he disappeared with a pop, along with a leaf-wrapped meal I'd been saving for my journey home. 

<br/><br/>When I turned around, two more were there. All five Meepos (Meepi?) faced me from every which direction and said, \"You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?\"

<br/><br/>I said I didn't. At this point, it seemed like the quickest way to stop making more of him. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_82_Meepo_LocHeroName"		"Meepo"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_83_Treant_LocFieldNotes"		"After a week wandering the mountains beyond the Vale of Augury, I'd given up hope of finding anyone who could tell me about Treant Protector. Or anyone at all, for that matter. It was nothing but trees. More trees than you'd expect in the mountains, all rustling non-stop.

<br/><br/>I'd just sat down on a large, exposed root when a voice boomed above me.

<br/><br/>\"You're sitting on my foot.\"

<br/><br/>I hopped up. After a nervous apology, I introduced myself and mentioned the Protector.

<br/><br/>\"We know him as Rooftrellen,\" the treant said. \"He is away. He has journeyed to learn of your world, pink thing, much as you are here to learn of ours. But our secrets are not yours to know.\"

<br/><br/>He seemed to visibly relax (insofar as a tree can slouch) when I said I only wanted to learn about Rooftrellen.

<br/><br/>\"He was the swiftest among us, and also the most adventurous,\" he rumbled. \"He will extinguish any dangers that might befall the realm of trees.

<br/><br/>\"Perhaps someday he shall return. Perhaps not. But you...\"

<br/><br/>I leaned in, quill poised.

<br/><br/>\"You must leave and never return.\" Ah.

<br/><br/>The nights were cold as I made my way home. I figured it best not to start any campfires."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_83_Treant_LocHeroName"		"Treant Protector"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_84_OgreMagi_LocFieldNotes"		"The Candonite gaming house hushes in anticipation of Aggron Stonebreak's turn at the dice table. \"Five fives. <i>Again</i>,\" announces a dour tablemaster over the crowd's roar. 

<br/><br/>The Goddess of Luck is said to have blessed ogres with her favor. Without it, they'd be too stupid to survive as a species. But this gambling house is known for taking the chance out of its games chance, in their favor. They figured they'd weighted the dice enough that an ogre's reputation for good fortune wouldn't make a difference. That was ten dice rolls ago. Ten dice rolls... every one five fives.

<br/><br/>With two heads instead of the usual one, however, Aggron has twice as much luck as most ogres. His two heads also mean double the brains. He's the smartest of their kind, making him about as smart as a human you wouldn't trust with hot food. 

<br/><br/>I follow Aggron outside, where he's checking on his mount, Flockheart.

<br/><br/>One of Aggron's heads tells me his mother was an ogre named \"Ogre.\" The other says his father was an ogre named \"Ogre the Ogre.\" They'd been carrion farmers on the cusp of starvation until Aggron was born and their fortunes somehow turned for the better.

<br/><br/>Now, Aggron travels the world, hoping to share his good fortune with anyone he calls friend. And those he doesn't?

<br/><br/>\"Well, them that don't get good luck, I give 'em what I call..\" said one head, before the other finished with an ogreish attempt at thoughtfulness, \"...not-good luck.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_84_OgreMagi_LocHeroName"		"Ogre Magi"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_85_Undying_LocFieldNotes"		"Thick plumes of black smoke led me to the barren meadow in the Bleeding Hills where a ragged teen was throwing a half-eaten corpse onto a massive blazing pyre, already stacked high with the dead. The sight was less unpleasant than the stench.

<br/><br/>He eyed me warily, as you would if your nomad tribe had just been brutalized without warning. Finally, perhaps looking for a break from lugging bodies, the youngster approached me.

<br/><br/>\"This ... thing comes without warning, in the dead of night,\" his voice was barely a whisper. \"We all hear some low hum, real creepy. Me? I run for it.\"

<br/><br/>The burning corpses, the teen added, were the ones who had stayed to fight.

<br/><br/>\"He raises his hand real slow-like and this stone just busts outta the ground, bringing walking dead things with it. And they're <i>hungry</i>. Hungry for our kind.\"

<br/><br/>I'd heard hushed whispers of Undying ravaging villages and encampments like this before. The problem had been finding anyone who'd lived to tell the tale.

<br/><br/>\"Now I gotta burn my family,\" he tried and failed to choke back a sob. \"I don't want 'em coming back like them things.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_85_Undying_LocHeroName"		"Undying"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_86_Rubick_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Maester of a city is one of the most honored stations a magus can hold,\" boasted Ilwyn Caladrian, gesturing to a massive chamber of leatherbound tomes, gold-inlaid orbs, crystal beakers, and other ornate arcana.

<br/><br/>By all accounts, Caladrian had earned his role as Stonehall's resident mage through decades of study and practice. More importantly, he'd survived what those in magic circles simply call The Cataclysm. No one had ever challenged the entire mages' guild. No one had been that foolish. But when Rubick dared to do just that, he nearly put an end to the world of magic. 

<br/><br/>\"Rubick threw down the gauntlet,\" he shook his head. \"He challenged us all, and there's no force greater than an army of magi working toward a common goal.\"

<br/><br/>That's the theory, at least. The magi set out for blood and wound up spilling only their own. For every spell they cast, Rubick had an answer. Often, that answer was a spell that another magus had used.

<br/><br/>\"Incantations that took years to learn, he replicated without a second thought, as though he were playing a child's game,\" Caladrian sputtered. \"Some of us crawled away, but only because he got bored of killing us.

<br/><br/>\"I hope he stays bored.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_86_Rubick_LocHeroName"		"Rubick"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_87_Disruptor_LocFieldNotes"		"The sound of red sand crunching beneath my feet harmonizes with the crackling from the stormy sky above the desolate plains of upland Druud.

<br/><br/>Marching beside me is a large lizard, atop which sits Disruptor. He's small for an Oglodi, but he carries a big stick. Or, more specifically, a big pole, arcing with electricity, which Disruptor uses to channel electricity itself. I'm rushing to keep up with him as he patrols the area.

<br/><br/>\"My people have studied stormcraft for generations,\" he says of the nomad Oglodi, who were driven out of their homeland and have wandered the deserts since. People tend to care about the weather more when they have to live out in it. 

<br/><br/>\"We know the dangers the weather can pose. We treat it with the reverence it deserves. In return it allows us to harness it for our purposes.\"

<br/><br/>A blast of wind blows a huge wall of sand into my face, though it seems to veer around Disruptor.

<br/><br/>\"That wasn't me,\" he says with a chuckle. \"Sometimes, the weather can be playful. But don't worry. If it was angry with you, you would know.\"

<br/><br/>Another gust blows pages from my pack. I scramble to pick them up. Disruptor, on his rounds, can't wait for me. Instead, he offers advice: \"I would find shelter. A storm's coming.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_87_Disruptor_LocHeroName"		"Disruptor"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_88_NyxAssassin_LocFieldNotes"		"A courier's warning had led me down there: \"Don't linger in the tunnels.\" Naturally, I lingered. My lamp picked out seams of quartz, damp stone and the shimmer of some resinous secretion. My own breath grew too loud.

<br/><br/>The chitinous scrape came first, then a thought that wasn't mine: HALT. It burrowed into my brain so forcefully I dropped my notebook.

<br/><br/>From the darkness he unfolded: eight limbs, the front pair hooked like daggers. Mandibles flexed as if tasting me. His streamlined carapace appeared designed for one purpose: sneak close, strike fast, slip away.

<br/><br/>Two eyes burned, radiating an intent so sharp it felt like a knife pressed between my ribs. I felt measured as potential prey, a soft, pink morsel. The thought pressed harder: Remember my story, scribe. The goddess queen chose this grub. Only this grub survived the ritual. Remade. Her sharpest blade. Her will in flesh. Nyx.

<br/><br/>I didn't blink until he vanished, leaving only an acrid odor and an echo of will. I write quickly now, unsure if these words are mine, or his ... or Hers. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_88_NyxAssassin_LocHeroName"		"Nyx Assassin"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_89_NagaSiren_LocFieldNotes"		"The arid Scintillant Wastes are an odd place to find a pirate, but that was where my sources told me I'd locate the flinty old seadog Grymstock. I found him laughing heartily at a table groaning under the weight of empty steins, in a seedy tavern called The Camel's Head on the outskirts of Qaldin. But when I asked about her, he sobered instantly.

<br/><br/>\"I was guardin' the hold of our ship, the Red Cutlass, when I hears this piercin' wail,\" he recounted. \"I just froze. Aye, outta fear, but 'twas more'n that. An' then she shows up.

<br/><br/>\"She slithers past me, looks me right in the eye with a hate I ain't seen the likes of before or since. Goes through our spoils, checkin' out every cup, grail, and chalice.

<br/><br/>\"Guess she don't find what she's lookin' for, so she just slides noiselessly back into the sea,\" he trembled.

<br/><br/>He says his crewmates had been as frozen as he. He doesn't know what became of them.

<br/><br/>\"All's I know is, I ain't goin' nowhere near the water ever again.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_89_NagaSiren_LocHeroName"		"Naga Siren"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_8_Juggernaut_LocFieldNotes"		"The battlefield near the Kantusa foothills is strewn with bodies. It's also strewn with heads that were once attached to said bodies. In the middle of a pile of corpses stands Yurnero.

<br/><br/>He leaps and drives his great sword through yet another adversary. His feet move deftly in both unison with and opposition to his arms as he cleaves through foes. It's like watching water in motion. Water that can slice people in half.

<br/><br/>Finally, the last of his opponents felled (a few fled, much to Juggernaut's disgust), his eyes glow from behind his mask as he beholds the carnage he has wrought.

<br/><br/>\"Today was a fine day,\" he intones. \"For me, yes, but more so for those who died here with honor.\"

<br/><br/>I ask if he regrets his banishment from the Isle of Masks or its subsequent destruction, leaving him the last of his kind, and praying he won't take offense. Thankfully, he doesn't.

<br/><br/>\"There is no time for regret,\" he advises. \"when there are battles to be won.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_8_Juggernaut_LocHeroName"		"Juggernaut"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_90_KeeperoftheLight_LocFieldNotes"		"I found him at dawn, crouched over a sputtering fire, coaxing a kettle to boil. He looked like any old wanderer—frail, bundled up, mumbling. His horse whinnied nervously.

<br/><br/>\"Don't be fooled by old Ezalor,\" a trapper had warned. \"Comes across like some doddering old fool. But I was lost one starless night when I met him. Then—poof—the North Star flared like a lantern.\"

<br/><br/>Sure enough, the old man seemed harmless. His staff leaned against a rock, faintly glowing in the way staves don't. He muttered strangely about \"first light\" and how the first light of dawn used to \"run faster.\" Then he'd chuckle, like he was sharing an inside joke with the universe.

<br/><br/>\"Oh, hello,\" he said as I approached. He gestured at the sunrise. \"Beautiful, isn't it? Not bad, if I do say so myself.\" The horse snorted.

<br/><br/>The kettle squealed. Ezalor poured tea unsteadily. The fire seemed to flare. I sipped, telling myself it was just morning sunlight. But beneath it all, it felt as though I wasn't sitting with a man at all, but with something that remembered a time when the very concept of morning was brand new. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_90_KeeperoftheLight_LocHeroName"		"Keeper of the Light"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_91_Io_LocFieldNotes"		"The flats stretched white and unbroken under a sky so wide it hurt my eyes. The air tasted staticky and tingled like salt. Io is supposedly everywhere, but rumor said it could be seen here. A soft, steady thrum pulsed around me, like a heartbeat. Then the Wisp drifted into view.

<br/><br/>Whatever Io is, it's older than time, let alone language. Those who have met it say it \"speaks\" only through cooperation and harmonic tones. \"Sometimes it sings,\" a nomad told me. \"A major key means it likes you. Dissonance means ... run.\"

<br/><br/>Feeling foolish, I asked where it came from. A shimmering major third rippled in all directions. A sweeping gesture of omnipresence? I asked why it bonds with some and not others. A drifting minor seventh oscillated back uncertainly, like a shrug.

<br/><br/>Finally, Io spiraled skyward, scattering motes of light. I stared at my notebook, unsure whether I'd nearly comprehended a cosmic force or I'd just staged an interview with myself. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_91_Io_LocHeroName"		"Io"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_92_Visage_LocFieldNotes"		"In a hospice in Hauptstadt, I met a rogue named Raff who looked like he'd been to hell and back. Turns out he had—seven times.

<br/><br/>He'd technically died only once—half-drunk, trousers half-on, falling completely off a brothel's balcony—and found himself in the Narrow Maze, a snarl of twisting passageways where souls are sorted. 

<br/><br/>\"Only, I found a way out,\" he whispers, leaning in. \"I ain't saying where. They'll only brick it up.\"

<br/><br/>Every time the Narrow Maze has a jailbreak, the Soulhunter—a gargoyle known as Visage—is set loose, and tasked with bringing the escapee back. 

<br/><br/>\"Beating wings of stone. Talons like chisels,\" says Raff, with the authority of someone who's heard the beating, and taken one. Raff's tried every thinkable hiding place: oceans (\"stone sinks\"), jungles (\"wings snag\"), even churches (\"supposed to wait on the roof, ain't they?\"). None worked. 

<br/><br/>\"Now I'm here,\" he says, gesturing around the hospice at his weak, waning (and in case, recently passed) roommates. \"Figger he don't notice me among all the other half-dead.\"

<br/><br/>Why keep running? Raff shrugs. \"If you'd seen what waits on the other side, you'd run too. Even if the stone thing always drags you back.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_92_Visage_LocHeroName"		"Visage"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_93_Slark_LocFieldNotes"		"\"Most people don't even know what crimes Slark committed,\" said the Slithereen Guard, who'd agreed to speak with me on condition of anonymity. \"The ones who do know say they're too gruesome to talk about.\" 

<br/><br/>We're sitting in the rubble of an old inn in the Shadeshore Ruins, and while the Slithereen Guard are fearsome and brave, my source startles at every rustling noise.

<br/><br/>\"He's not like us,\" he shudders. \"We're powerful, but he's vicious. Vicious and cunning.\"

<br/><br/>For years, Slark's malice had been constrained. He'd been imprisoned in Dark Reef, an impregnable sunken prison where hope seeps in and nobody gets out. Nobody, that is, until Slark. He'd attempted a jailbreak once before and barely been stopped. He'd been imprisoned for half a lifetime before he got his next chance at a jailbreak, joining up with a dozen other inmates.

<br/><br/>\"I don't think he joined because they had a good plan,\" the guard said. \"He made his own plan and just used theirs as a distraction. He knew they were gonna fail.\" He thinks. \"He might have been the reason.\"

<br/><br/>\"I don't know what that vicious little gillsucker did to get put in here,\" he says. \"But if you're ever in jail and there's a jailbreak,\" he adds, \"he'd be the one I'd follow.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_93_Slark_LocHeroName"		"Slark"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_94_Medusa_LocFieldNotes"		"The statue-filled town square of Sholcaste hints at a glorious past. Until you take a closer look and see these statues aren't celebrating grand figures from bygone days. They show a town in panic.

<br/><br/>A traveling theater company had come, bringing a pantomime about the mythical Gorgons. Like most pantomimes, it was silly, mocking. And the Gorgon Medusa does not take kindly to mockery.

<br/><br/>\"The show was booked for a week, then the performers were supposed to move on,\" said Luther Garrick, the town's new mayor. \"But I guess word had got out about their show, and how funny it was. It was pretty savage. People weren't used to telling jokes about Gorgons in public like that. Big hit.

<br/><br/>\"Anyway, Medusa showed up on day three.\"

<br/><br/>Ages ago, Medusa's own sisters had been kidnapped for their beauty and immortality. She herself had forsaken her own stunning appearance for the tools to exact revenge. She slithered into Sholcaste and cast her stone gaze on the actors. Then she turned on the crowd who had been laughing along with the show.

<br/><br/>The statues still decorate the town square, too heavy to move from the stage. They serve as a warning to hopeful thespians: Don't make fun of Gorgons if you can't handle the reviews."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_94_Medusa_LocHeroName"		"Medusa"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_95_TrollWarlord_LocFieldNotes"		"The trolls aren't eager to talk about Jah'rakal, the Troll Warlord. For a few dicey hours after I arrive at their shoddy camp, it seems they're more likely to kill me than speak to me. Finally, mercifully, they warm up. Barely.

<br/><br/>\"We can't stand that guy, and we're trolls—we put up with a lot,\" grunts one with a meaningful nod toward their camp's cook, who's spitting in the rancid stew he's boiling up for the tribe.

<br/><br/>The group takes turns listing off expletives to describe Jah'rakal before eventually getting to the crux of the matter.

<br/><br/>\"He stole my cousin's share of the loot they'd scored. He didn't even really help out in the fight,\" a burly troll spits. \"So they kicked him outta the camp.\"

<br/><br/>Jah'rakal didn't take kindly to his exile. He returned the next day, twirling his axes.

<br/><br/>\"Bastard killed my cousin dead,\" the troll says. \"Him and about 20 others. Just went feral on 'em.

<br/><br/>\"He comes 'round here, we got blades just waiting to split him open,\" the troll chieftain adds before lowering his voice.

<br/><br/>\"Uh, if you see him, don't tell him I said that.\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_95_TrollWarlord_LocHeroName"		"Troll Warlord"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_96_Centaur_LocFieldNotes"		"The taverns are always crowded the night of a title fight at the Omexe. Tonight is no different, with everyone buzzing about the big fight. But not tonight's big fight. It's one year later, and it still feels like the only fight worth talking about.

<br/><br/>The day Warrunner returned to Omexe. He had returned a conquering hero. 

<br/><br/>But there's no basking in past glory in the ring. And there's nothing a fresh, young, hungry combatant wants more than to conquer a conquering hero.

<br/><br/>For months, the bookmakers had tabbed a young upstart named Thalanax as the perpetual betting favorite. He hadn't disappointed to that point. And when Warrunner snorted and stamped his hoof at Thalanax's challenge, the youngster, more brawn than brains, failed to take it for the warning it was.

<br/><br/>Thalanax's funeral was sparsely attended. He'd lost a lot of people a lot of money in that fight.

<br/><br/>Warrunner said he would happily return to the Omexe any time to kill whoever wanted to challenge him for the belt. \"And I will likely take my time,\" he added, \"to make it worth the trip.\" So far, if anyone else thinks they have a shot at it, they've kept it to themselves. "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_96_Centaur_LocHeroName"		"Centaur Warrunner"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_97_Magnus_LocFieldNotes"		"Vaer Umbercloth, the last of a long family line of hunters and poachers, removes a rabbit from a snare. We're trekking up and down Mount Joerlak, checking his traps as he speaks.

<br/><br/>\"Rabbits an' whatnot are fine,\" he drawls. \"But a magnoceroi, that's a real prize.\"

<br/><br/>His father, Kaelor Umbercloth, had been as esteemed as a poacher can be—which is to say not very, outside of poaching circles. Kaelor had set his sights on trapping one of the gargantuan beasts when Vaer was just a boy of 12. The creature's magnetic horn alone would have earned his father enough coin to feed his family for years.

<br/><br/>But when Mount Joerlak erupted, spewing liquid fire and ash for miles, the magnoceroi that didn't die in the disaster fled north. All except for one: Magnus. Kaelor didn't even have time to ready his spear before he was pulled by some unseen force toward the beast. Vaer watched from a hunting blind as Magnus' horn impaled him.

<br/><br/>\"A real prize,\" Vaer mumbles as he pulls a fox from a rusty trap. \"But they ain't worth the cost.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_97_Magnus_LocHeroName"		"Magnus"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_98_Timbersaw_LocFieldNotes"		"I followed the trail of decimated trees through the Western Forests. Usually when people chop timber, they take the wood with them. Here, logs were strewn about like casualties on a battlefield. That told me two things: That I'd found Rizzrack, and that the rumors about his sanity were probably accurate. 

<br/><br/>As I approached, I began to hear the scream of metal on wood, the fresh air of the forest replaced with an oily scent. There in a clearing, laughing at the top of his lungs, was Rizzrack in his mechanical suit. 

<br/><br/>He looked preposterous. He also looked consumed by equal measures of hatred and madness. He wasn't cutting the pine so much as punch-slicing it with the rotating saw on his suit's arm. As the branches fell, Rizzrack shouted a stream of obscenities about the tree's parentage.

<br/><br/>Once he was done, I cleared my throat and he turned towards me. Rizzrack stared at me for a moment, a twisted smile on his lips, then whispered, \"Are you a tree?\" "
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_98_Timbersaw_LocHeroName"		"Timbersaw"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_999_CodexIntro_LocFieldNotes"		"Foreword Text"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_999_CodexIntro_LocNonHeroName"		"Hero Atlas"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_99_Bristleback_LocFieldNotes"		"\"What I'm tellin' ya  - what I tells everyone - is that weren't a fair fight,\" Rigwarl snarled with an intonation that suggested he'd brook no disagreement. \"&%#er sucker punched me is wot happened.\"

<br/><br/>We were sitting in a pub in Njord's Hearth (that was disgustingly filthy even by the standards of Njord's Hearth), not far from where the brawler Rigwarl — known to the locals as \"Bristleback\", \"that drunk\" and \"that angry drunk who won't stop fighting everybody\" — had met his first defeat. Mention of the fight drew a nervous side-eye from the bartender. The shady patrons within earshot popped their coats on and slipped outside.

<br/><br/>\"Sucker punchin' ain't right,\" Rigwarl growled before turning his head to spit a green glob onto the floor (repulsive even by the standards of green globs). It appeared the pub hadn't been cleaned in months. The spit somehow still made it worse.

<br/><br/>Of course, the bartender knew better than to ask Bristleback to leave — not when he was worked up like this. Shoddy plasterwork tried and failed to conceal gaping holes in walls from the last few times someone had tried to kick Rigwarl out. Luckily, the brawler made the decision himself. He pounded back the last of who knows how many ales and stood.

<br/><br/>\"Yeh, I'm gonna find that bastard right now, give 'im what for,\" he vowed before striding to the door, punching it off its hinges and skulking off into the chilly dusk. 

<br/><br/>I followed. It promised to be one hell of a fight."
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_99_Bristleback_LocHeroName"		"Bristleback"
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_9_Mirana_LocFieldNotes"		"The lotus flowers, floating atop a tranquil pool deep in the Nightsilver Woods, glow silver in the light of two fat, low-slung, partially-sharded moons.

<br/><br/>\"Beautiful, no?\" a voice snaps me out of a state of reverie I hadn't known I was in.

<br/><br/>Startled, I whirl to face Mirana, Princess of the Moon. Her regal bearing doesn't offset the unease I feel — mostly over the large cat skulking between the trees behind her. 

<br/><br/>\"Those flowers belong to my goddess, Selemene. You may look, but not touch,\" warns the Princess. I knew the story, but didn't dare interrupt.

<br/><br/>\"So if you were thinking of taking one...\" her voice echoes faintly.

<br/><br/>A small, sturdy young woman appears from behind a copse of trees to my left and adds an ominous whistle.

<br/><br/>\"I'm only here to speak with you,\" I offer, bowing deeply.

<br/><br/>She tuts at my display.

<br/><br/>\"Such gestures are reserved for Selemene,\" Mirana murmurs in reverence. These woods are Hers; I am but their keeper.\"

<br/><br/>I ask why she gave up a life as the next heir to the Solar Throne to serve another. She seems to find the question silly.

<br/><br/>\"Castles and crowns are mere trinkets,\" she says. Then she gestures to her feline and human consorts. \"We serve a higher calling.\""
	"DOTA_VData_monster_hunter_world_CodexEntriesLocalized_9_Mirana_LocHeroName"		"Mirana"
}