I am Elturiel, called beyond the gate to serve. Sylvester Alédoe is nothing but a shell. Sylvester Alédoe has conjured me to protect him through a chasm.
One thousand years of lethargy botched by one's personal misfortune.
"Djinni" he says, "You cannot oppose the words I speak." As if he thought I didn't know the laws bestowed upon me.
I've swept away hastily with the obligation in my mind. Instinctively, confidently employing my inner eye to seek out this instrument. To seek out this instrument that he accredits to be such a protector, the redeemer of his own flesh and blood.
I've come to the concealed location of the ornament I am to obtain. Countless amounts of lurking paladins. Countless amounts of age old acquaintances. Disastrously bonded to my master's hand, I must desperately carry out this witless plan. Kicking up dust as I disapparate within arm's reach of the talisman, exposing myself to all.