The Spider bristles at your approach. "Ah… my Guardian." Spider's eyes linger on your mud-covered boots trailed by soil-caked tracks. An uneven hiss spews from his rebreather as he gestures for a guard to bring the stained note in your outstretched hand. "I trust your meeting went well?"
Spider flaps the ragged note flat against the thick Shore air. He mumbles Eliksni between chittering clicks and hisses. "Buyer's remorse," he chortles. "Sounds like some trigger-happy Lights snuffed him out." Spider relaxes, satisfied with his answer. Silent seconds pass.
"Oh… it wants the gun." Spider produces a tittering giggle. "Of course you do." He agrees to find the burial site for you, but needs your persuasive flair. "Do what you do best. Crack a few skulls. Sow fear. Whenever a Guardian starts wreaking havoc, they always come to me."