Vaultkeeper Cardinius

Hornet

I would view your collection, Vaultkeeper.

She may see it. A perfect set. This Vaultkeeper is rich with insights. Jealous its fellows would be... If still their minds remained.

Give Psalm Cylinder?

Rkkt! I know she has it. Keeps it. Carried coveted in her cloth. This one searched for it. Give it! Give it to us!

Divine music... The soul of Pharloom eternal laid bare... That our cursed age could still receive such blessing...

So, Weaver-spawn, our melody is yours now, held in mind to carry beyond our walls. Was the learning worth its thieving?

Hornet

It was, Vaultkeeper. And know to me your service continues. Keep the cylinder safe, along with any others I may bring.

Yes! Yes! She gives... It is ours!

Hornet

I have passed the relic, Vaultkeeper. Now uphold your promise and aid me with your insight.

Fool! Demanding of a Vaultkeeper. Hers is impudence enough to bring death... If she did not carry the scent of Weaver-spawn.

Hornet

So you know something of my ancestry, learned bug. If it gains me favour here, then I’ll expect your service in full.

Bleg! Dead! Dead, your vicious kind are meant to be. Better methinks to stay as such...

Gkkkt. But this one was taught. It shall fold its claws. It shall pass its knowledge, as much as is gleaned.

Only to a first child must a Vaultkeeper defer.

Hornet

Vaultkeeper, I am seeking a melody held by your vaults, part of a set to open a path above. Tell me what you know of it.

The Weaver-thing would claim our sacred melody?! How grim the age we survive to see... Vile sacrilege for it to pass to an outsider...

Only our pontiff, lived long and low within our vault, they held the melody, jealously, covetously... A learning for the highest Vaultkeeper, and them alone.

A truth they were told to have found... There in the dark. Something within the melody, or the words. Something to set them silent...

Hornet

I am not afraid of what I’ll hear, Vaultkeeper. If your pontiff and their melody wait below, I shall find them both.

Yes! A fair gift, Weaver-spawn. This Vaultkeeper shall glean what knowledge a great mind can.

Grkkt. What has she brought it? More treasures waiting on a Keeper’s insight, yes? The sacred cylinders of our holy Citadel? Pass them. Give them. Now! She must!

Interloper! On you, our pontiff’s sacred melody! You have found it, hold it, and now you dally, lost like a mite in our shelves!

Return to the listening room below! The sacred cylinder can be played, and the melody of our vaults heard at last in this damned age stretched long.

Horrid she! What fool dares strike a holy Vaultkeeper! It has knowledge! Insight! As much as any could possibly retain in our fallen age.

Would she cast it all aside just to create more death? If so, she is Weaver to the core!

Pain! Pain! Do you hear her cries, cursed spider-spawn!? Pharloom suffers for our pathetic, mortal ignorance! We fail it and it falls!

Knowledge is needed. More and more! It must be hoarded, sought! Strength to understand, to calm and quell.

Hornet

It is action now that needs taking, Vaultkeeper, by myself and those left alive who would aid me.

Hornet

Seek solutions in your texts and psalms as you may, but they alone will not be enough to heal a pain so great.

Yessss! See them all! Its collection gleams complete. Such sacred understanding, stored safe.

You have performed your part, Weaver-spawn... The agreement is concluded. Knowledge and rosaries, all were passed fair. No more between us.

Leave this Keeper to its treasures and their insights. It has given its service. Now this Keeper wants its time alone!

Hornet

Show me your collection, Vaultkeeper.

Grkt, Weaver-spawn! She is a bother! Nuisance! Bring more gifts. The collection still has gaps!

The Weaver-spawn, she has found it! Our pontiff’s sacred cylinder, stolen from the dark below...

Never! States our law. Never must our melody pass to a bug not Keeper! But you, fool Weaver, would shatter those tenets with reckless ease.

Hornet

Your pontiff is gone, Vaultkeeper. Your fellows have fallen to husk or thread. What laws once bound these vaults died with them.

Ackk! Fine, cursed she. Claim the sacred song, and pain to you if we both are damned forever for it!

Hornet

Vaultkeeper, I bring the psalm cylinder recovered from the dark chambers below here. I would learn its melody.

Kak! Then pass it, filthy Weaver-spawn! A cylinder so sacred should not remain a moment longer in your grubby claws!

Hold them, will she? Covet them? Can she not part with such a small prize?

Remain blind fool she. This Keeper’s understanding stays with itself.

Weaver-thing! Does she hope to spy upon our treasured records?

Within our vast store, always more there is to know, the old methods of prayer, to this land, to its rulers, and to the strength at its heart.

She carries a precious cylinder! She must give it! Share it! Claw to claw!

Pass it! And this Vaultkeeper shall grant their wisdom. Just a small taste! A trickle! A glimmer! Of our Citadel’s sacred understandings.

One must not wander idle between these sacred shelves! This is a holy place. Reverence! It is demanded.

If the fool she wishes to view this Keeper’s collection, head to the listening room below.

Hornet

Keep safe, Vaultkeeper. I may expect your service in future, and I’d not have you pass before that task is complete.

Gyak... No fool this Keeper. It has lived long, watched its fellows wither, but it shall not die, not yet, not while knowledge needs be sought.

This pact is made, Weaver-spawn, insight for us, both she and it.

This holy Citadel, in glory and fall, there are holes in its history, even to a Keeper’s knowledge, even to the vaults.

Seek the cylinders, she must, those objects of intricate insight. Bring more for this Keeper and only this Keeper, for in this Citadel none are left possessed of such sound, sharp mind as it.

Hornet

Vaultkeeper, I recovered a psalm cylinder in the dark chambers below here. I believe it contains the melody unique to these vaults. I would have you play it for me now.

Kakrt! She has visited the pontiff’s depths and stolen the sacred song! Where is your respect, Weaver-spawn?! Our venerable dead deserve better than to have their chambers transgressed by your filthy foraging!

Hornet

In this moment, Vaultkeeper, I’ve slim patience for your impudence. Either prepare the cylinder and stay silent, or ready yourself to learn regret.

You refuse to play our sacred melody! Why pause, Weaver-thing? Do you cower at the truths it may illuminate? Surely you are not the lesser sort that bows to fear?

Hornet

When the moment calls, Vaultkeeper, I shall listen. For now, your task remains to keep the cylinder safe. And know, you shall answer to my blade if you fail.

Give Psalm Cylinders?