Words of the Constant
... my brood.
What have you done, Shieldbearer?
Ah-!!
So... a lifetime of loyalty is rewarded with a blade in my carapace...
With my final breath, I curse you, and your Queen!
May your brood rot...
May all you hold dear be drowned in shadow...
Let the unending Darkness... take you... all...
in servitude.
Dear Artificer, you ask what I have done.
Unlike our beloved Visionist,
I drank from the chalice of duty
with full knowing of its bitter contents.
Now, with brethren lying dead before me,
I shall keep vigil over our work
My dear Artificer,
until I too join them in oblivion.
My only consolation is this:
that I served Her,
and fulfilled what was required.
Hail Metheus.
Ever may She reign.
'tis the finest work you have ever done,
bringing my vision to its fruition.
And never has there been a grander vision
than yours within these chambers, dear Visionist.
Our next guests need no introduction!
Good point.
Then why are we here?
Ye hath queries.
Ye art intrigued!
Terrified!
There is nothing to fear...
From the dark, at least.
Of what should ye be afraid?
The dark!
No.
Salutations, friends!
Why, the accursed gleam of lumin, of course!
Of course!
From that blasted celestial orb!
Ugh! Orb!
Yes. "Ugh," indeed!
We too hail from our own realms.
Menaced by horrible gods.
That is until the sweet pall was laid upon us.
And now, we three be free!
Freeeeee!
We three be heralds of our tenebrous provider.
Ye too can be liberated!