Welcome to Pandora. I am what they call the Guardian angel but you may call me what you like. Why I help is of little concern just know that I am here to help, that I want everyone that comes hear to find what there looking for, the vault. He was like every other treasure hunter who came here before him, unafraid and cocky of his own skills. I couldn’t pin his age, I was bad at such things, his hair was unreal colored, his face unshaven and when he rarely took the goggles of his face his eyes where the color of the sun, golden, consuming the pupils into small dots even when the sun was down. Many before him had died and those lucky enough had fled and lived, I wondered, like always, which he would be. My hope of course was neither, my hope of course was that he would be the one to find the vault but I wouldn’t lose sleep if he didn’t, there would be others, there always was. I did want I always did at first, I introduced myself, walked him through his first encounters, showed him the way, like a mother to her child, a ungrateful child, a rebellious child. He grew bored of me much faster then anyone before him, he lived much longer as well. I should have been happy, I should have been proud but I was angry. I would point to the North and he would head to the south in search of some Rak to clean kill, to skin and hang the skull, or teeth from his belt still dripping, still flesh splattered. I was jealous of the rifle, of these trophies of his, of that hunting bird. I helped him survive this far and he ignored me, the NERVE!