[u]Rahool's Lament[/u] You can’t hide in the quiet of the archives all your life, even if you enjoy the silence. I miss that silence, Guardian, that resounding quiet that embraces one buried in their studies, surrounded by the written word, be it ink on manuscript or words on a screen. I miss the solitude, the excitement of a new discovery, the exhilaration of testing a new theory, the realization of a new pattern of sequences. I remember in my younger years, that moment I decoded my first Engram as a student at the Cryptarch Academy. I felt as though the knowledge I gained was so precious, the content and meaning of our work so imperative to the continuation of our existence in this universe. To create something from seemingly nothing, Guardian, it is as close to the power of the Traveler as any of us will ever come. I miss that feeling of discovery, when everything was new and exciting, and held a special meaning. I miss the close work with my fellow Cryptarchs, like-minded comrades who shared in my joy every time another Engram was decoded. But now I stand here, day in and day out, taking your Engrams and turning them into treasures for you. Hundreds, thousands, a million Engrams pass through my hands. I decode matter from the past and the present, and I turn it into something tangible for you, something you can work with, to assist you in [i]our[/i] struggle against the Darkness. Yet for some unfathomable reason, you seem to despise me. Well, my friend, let me tell you something… You don’t even have the mental capacity to fully appreciate the process of decoding those Engrams, yet you rely on them for armor and the ability to protect yourself. You are literally clothed and armed with the blood, sweat and tears of our ancestors, items from a past culture we may never be able to fully recover. You are utilizing the creations of a civilization that is responsible for our current existence. You don’t even know what “existential” means, do you? No, of course not. And how do you thank me? You grieve over the fact I am able to produce for you a perfectly functional set of Mangala Skin gauntlets, or a fine pair of Knight Type I leg armor. And as I recall the countless hours I spent agonizing over the encryption on the very first Nemesis Plane V chest piece that was brought back to the Cryptarch Academy years ago, you tear it apart for Hadronic Essence, [i]right before my very eyes[/i]. You don’t even have the decency to walk across to the other side of the Tower before you destroy my work with such ease it’s as though you’re simply pushing a button! And the weapon parts! Don’t even get me started with those! What’s so bad about the Helios FR5? Or the Searcher MK. 37? You weren’t lamenting such a decryption back in your earlier days, now were you? You and your weapon parts, bah! It’s only gotten worse now that Banshee’s agreed to reforge things. Do you know what I miss most of all, Guardian? I miss the respect and appreciation from my peers. You curse my trade when you should be thankful any amongst us has the ability in the first place. Not a single one of you can be grateful for the time and attention and effort that it takes behind the scenes to decode those Engrams. Every cryptogram, ever character and marking, the symbol and language of an entire universe tangled up in energy and Light, all swirled together in a little mass of atoms and molecules, it’s enough to make a man go mad! My head aches some evenings from this work, Guardian….These codes and these symbols, I see them in my dreams…. And yet here I stand, today, tomorrow, for as long as you need me, for as long as Engrams need decryption, I will be here, ready and willing to assist you. This is my sacrifice for the greater good. Just remember, Guardian, a million deaths are not enough...