Well before we get into it, a couple disclaimers and a couple notes.

1.) I have searched but found no official ordering to the words each character sings; it comes out randomly and as fragmented thought. I have arranged the verses in the way that strike me as most appropriate and thematic, but that is of course only my opinion. If something stands out to you that could be improved, wait till the end and share your take!

2.) When singing, there can be crossover (and confusion) between characters, locations, and their proximity to one another. Again I have used my judgment in attribution, yet there is room for interpretation I'm sure. Take it with a grain of salt.

3.) This guide is massive, and loosely organized by themes shared among characters. If you are looking for a specific one and unsure where it is, utilize ctrl + f to search.

4.) Spoilers. Big ones. Duh!

From ages past, pilgrims had made a trek across Pharloom, drawn in by a spiritual promise. The Citadel's grand majesty and power drew in hopeful (and witless) bugs, all to fuel their own purposes.





We started, appropriately, at Bone Bottom. Pilby, Pebb, Flick the Fixer, and many nameless pilgrims all sang the same song, unified in their motivations and encouragements.

"Our last rest... why so few?
Save your strength, defeat your fear... stay together.
Always up... climb to death... climb to glory!
For you, dear Pharloom... to reach your light."





After a Skull Tyrant wrecked Bone Bottom, this unnamed Solemn Pilgrim took the helm of a small funeral procession for our fallen friend. For the honorable and steadfast Pilby, let's sing...

"Fellow pilgrim... your journey ends.
Fallen brother... we carry your memory."





Whether from doubt or fear, some pilgrims rested longer than others along their journey. But when moss has grown over your body and into your belly... yeah, the Overgrown Pilgrims lingered too long.

"Safe in damp and dim...
Caves all green...
Caves grown holy...
We shall join you..."





All these haunted pilgrims: Grovelers and Pouncers, Winged and Hulk, Bellbearers and Hikers, Elder and Guide... so many stories, all lost to thread.

"Shining bright, our Citadel waits... am I worthy?
The path. The holy path... my faith, my reward...
There is no pain, nor fear, nor death...
My soul, my shell. For you! Raise my shell! Pull me closer!
Pull us higher, even higher... raise me higher! Pull me closer!
Lives end, journeys begin... we will climb! Climb! Climb forever!"




Many poor souls had been tricked into thinking that hoarding rosaries would make them pure. I guess that made this Covetous Pilgrim the purest of them all, eh?

"A little more, 'tis all I need... to ascend, triumphantly.
Holy, holy, gather it up! All is mine... for me, for me!"





A Weary Pilgrim gave us a glimpse into the mind of one falling to the Haunting. Interestingly, she shares some unique dialogue with the haunted pilgrims down by Bonegrave.

"Forget... your pain...
Climb... the climb...
Have... faith...
Sing..."





At first Mort seemed greedy to me. But as so many pilgrims compared the strength of their faith to the weight of their purse, maybe it's not his fault he held so tightly to rosaries.

"Pharloom's mercy... are we worthy?
A shell still safe... I will survive!"





Lumble the Lucky credited his faith and his luck with a successful ascent. Ironically, once his dice were given to Hornet, he dropped the 'Lucky' moniker as presumably he passed it on to her.

"Faces of the fallen...
Worn and winding ways...
Luck and faith, intertwined...
Let holy chance decide!"





This Tall Pilgrim, and his squat friend, completed the entire climb across Pharloom to the gate of the Citadel. If only they could have gotten a glimpse of the Citadel for their efforts...

"O great gate... open! Open!
We have followed the path...
Have mercy! Have pity!"





Imagine surviving a treacherous climb, only to be met with the Citadel's... hospitality. The castaway, the disillusioned, and the used-up pilgrims made their way to Songclave as they came to grips with reality.

"Dear Pharloom... where is your glory? Where is your light?
Our pilgrimage... are we the last? Are we the chosen?
All haunted, even here... was it our sin?"





Who among us didn't gain a smile when we heard the tune of little Sherma? One of the few we met who didn't need our prompt to start singing.

"We pilgrims, blessed... we find our way!
In song's embrace... together we pray!
Together we climb... to the world's shining peak!"





I was fearful as I rushed to the Whiteward, worrying about our friend's fate. Thankfully we arrive in time, but enough was seen to begin unraveling Sherma's clouded vision of the Citadel.

"This place, hidden from holy light...
How did it escape the Citadel's sight?
All this suffering... am I not holy enough?"





Even with the fresh revelations he gained from the Whiteward, Sherma continued to be a positive voice and inspire his fellow pilgrims. He's just a lil' guy!

"Brothers... sisters...
You shall have your reward.
I know it! I swear it!
Let us keep our faith!"





Waking up and seeing Sherma with the Caretaker's robes, and position, made me smile. What better role for our dearest friee-end!

"Brothers... sisters... we still have our voices!
Our strength is shared, our bond is unbroken.
Huddle together... let's keep our spirits strong."





After the 'great breaking' began, Songclave remained the last safe spot for any gormless pilgrims in the Citadel. Probably thanks to Sherma's faithfulness... and no small help from the Second Sentinel.

"Our path... Pharloom, we failed.
Crushed... consumed? What new test?
What new sin? Why must we suffer?"





Oh Belhart. Once such a beacon of joy, brought so low that even Pavo's spirits had been beaten down. Those here shared a similar song with those remaining pilgrims up in Songclave, but with a slight variation.

"Safe? Pharloom, we failed.
Crushed... consumed? What did we do?
Black threads... Why must we suffer?"





In the Survivor's Camp, the remnant down below mustered together with one last song. Despite the despair, Flick the Fixer kept a brave face to carry them on, into whatever end awaited.

"Dear Pharloom... help us, save us...
Live... to climb... glory...
Dark... Afraid..."

There are those who wandered Pharloom, not as pilgrims on a holy journey, but on their own quests. It is, after all, from a journey we find our purpose.





Poshanka! The Child Wielding Needle and Shakra Wielding Rings became fast friends, meeting each other across every part of Pharloom. Eventually, Hornet was able to give somber ceremony for Shakra's master at the edge of this world.

"Beyond land's bounds... we fall with weapons high.
We fight on, fearless...
Discipline and skill. Strength and courage.
Warrior's call..."





Yakkanesh! At world's end Shakra discovered a new quest, in defending broken Belhart. All those foes she cut down at their gates... I have no doubt she held the line until Hornet completed her own quest.

"For those remaining... for those too weak...
Still I stand, my rings ready... for you all...
Until the end..."





Gilly's father wanted her to study the wild caves of the Hunters March, and figure out why life thrives there. If she can keep up with her disguises, she may one day find the answer.

"Father's wish... Daughter's promise!
I'll sniff it out! Hidden... searching...
I'll solve it! Me! Secrets of a living land!"





Not the typical figure you'd expect to be filling out a bestiary. Nuu is ready to taste knowledge of every beastly thing. Her journey's only begun I'd say.

"In waters deep and caverns tall...
Wings that beat, legs that crawl...
Every beast, great and small...
Clever Nuu must know them all!"





A wounded soul, the Green Prince lost everything he loved to that great golden leech in the Cradle. Small consolation that his love's soul is free.

"Together we ruled... together we danced...
Our claws clasped... our gaze, as one...
You and I, always... together, perfect..."





Guurrooo! Garmond and Zaza, a jolly duo to find on the road. This brave pair lost their home to the Haunting; I'd love to see and learn more about their past.

"Only our duty, only our claws.
Always in our hearts... for dear friends lost...
We shall remember. We shall fight. Till the end... together."





Though their skills seemed somewhat lacking compared to Hornet, they fought their way through all the foes they came across and proved an honorable ally.

"For their sake, fight fiercely on!
Live or die, make them proud!
Keep your hornlance high!
Meet your enemy's gaze!"





Garmond and Zaza joined in to protect Songclave at some point, their honor compelling them to fight for friends wherever they were found.

"For family passed! For dear friends gone!
We remember your light... cut down the darkness!
Our duty, till the end..."





When I saw Zaza urging me to follow, a bad feeling sunk down into my gut.

"Hunter in red, friend spider!
Hurry hurry! Follow quickly!"





A sorrowful end for Garmond, and his faithful steed. His endless combat exacted its toll on him, but peace has finally come for our friend.

"Thank you... Old bug, old friend.
So strong, so kind... brave to the end...
Let's meet back home..."





They weren't pilgrims of the Citadel, but the Flea Caravan was certainly on a pilgrimage of their own. With the help of Bug Not Flea, every last flea in the land found their way home.

"Hear our voices! Hear our plea!
All fleas must find us, all fleas must come...
The ritual beckons... the road is long...
Join our company, moving free!
We live and die and roam as one!"





Besides obvious plot reasons, it's a wonder how Kratt found himself stuck here. He's lucky his 'Nectarsweet' found him.

"O fleas, o fleas!
Where are you all...
Are you hiding from Kratt?
Are you lonely without Kratt?"




Dodeshna! Kratt was selfish and pervy upon joining his fellow fleas, but he softened into a genuine member of the caravan... eventually.

"Sweet, brave Kratt... the flea of fleas, oh yes!
The fleas' guiding light. What waits at journey's end?"





Vog's a burly flea, the girth much needed for the task of tracking down fleas. How she knew where they were, but didn't get them back... bah, plot purposes!

"Lost fleas, lost lands...
Sniffed... sensed...
None can hide..."





The whole caravan, together. Mooshka and Grishkin, Varga and Kratt and Vog, all the fleas and of course the huge one too! Their pilgrimage reached an end.

"Safe together, home at last...
The road behind us, dangers passed.
Swim and sing, ease stiffened shells...
We fleas together, till final bells.
Rejoice! Remember! Those long gone...
Soon... the ritual, bold, loud, strong!"





Here in Fleatopia, the fleas were preparing for the end of the world in a most interesting way...

"Our home found safe, so briefly known...
These caves quake black, and shake, and groan...
All fleas must gather, now or never...
Our wish, this one last grand endeavor...
The ritual calls, before the end...
We live and die and roam as one!"





Gotta say I was nervous when Fleamaster Mooshka asked Hornet to accompany them into their final act... but what a pleasant surprise from all our flea friends here. Team Cherry nailed this on the head. Vikna!

"This time of fleas spent warm, together...
Our ritual, need more than ever.
This world may fall, but we stand till the last...
Dance and play, as all fleas past.
Face the darkness, sing dear friends...
Joy and merry till it all ends."





Through some sort of oath or calling, Shrine Guardian Seth had kept watch over Nyleth for who knows how long. For a seemingly normal bug, he is quite masterful at combat.

"Sacred seeds...
Memories kept...
Guardian's call...
Ages pass..."





After his defeat at the shrine, Seth loses all his memories. But he's enjoying his fresh start - a lovely tribute to a beloved fan.

"Fresh shell, clear sight.
Fateless and free...
To the beginning and back...
Where others tread, and beyond..."





Ah, Mister Mushroom. Hornet's grand actions called him to Pharloom, whatever that means. What he heralds, I do not know... he might not either, as he has no mind for outcomes - only for the present, and for the journey.

"Stone will break and steel will rust...
Lies and truths must be discussed...
Caps and shells may fall to dust...
But Mister Mushroom readjusts..."

To sustain the grandeur of the city above, multitudes of workers were needed to sweat and toil below. It is written, a bug who serves Pharloom must never die... I wonder what they believed this meant.





All the Deep Dock workers: Smelt Shovelers, Deep Divers, Flintstone and Flintflame Flyers, Smokerock Sifters. Despite the kingdom's collapse, still hard at work... at least they seem content in the heat.

"Seek the shine... find the ore...
Tunnel, breach, bore.
Smelt dug and churned...
For grace above, by holy light.
Toil, and toil, and toil..."




The Forge Daughters were an ancient and honored line of smiths, down to only one left. At least she has faithful Ballow by her side. Except for when he's in the steam room, of course.

"Forged by holy duty, the work endures.
Heat it... shape it... tempered... molded...
We continue the task, for Pharloom everlasting."




Forebrothers Signis and Gron kept the Deep Docks ordered and functioning in its prime. Now in its ruin they continue the task, duty bound till the end.

"For Pharloom, we toil. Break the stone, seek the ore...
World's blood runs hot... breathe it deep, dark burning air.
Break your shell, brother! Burn your claws, sister!
Sing together! Work together! Rest together! Rise together!"




Dreg Catchers, Thread Rakers, Silk Snippers. In the past, they worked the moors for fresh food. Then, they swore an oath of fealty as the new kingdom's silk collectors.

"The air... the fields... catch it, spool it, spin it, send it.
Why... always this? Even these dregs... are we only dregs?"




Moorwing, a vicious mite-beast that caught a lot of us off guard. Once it served like a watchdog to keep the Greymoor dregs in line. Then it served its own appetites, returning to a primal hunting nature.

"Scratch and slash... kill the captors!
Free to fly... free to feed..."




The Roachcatchers and Roachfeeders seem both tormented, and tormentor. It couldn't have been an easy job, wrangling and growing Muckroaches.

"Sharp jaws, and teeth... locks tight...
Poke them, slash them, teach them fear..."




The Roachkeeper. We learned from various sources that once the farmland in the moors was confiscated for silk, something had to be done to keep folks from starving. A grim, but perhaps honorably intended task in the Sinner's Road.

"Herd them, bind them...
Feed the many. None shall starve..."




The Disgraced Chef Lugoli and her Roachservers had the task of making that Muckroach meat edible... I'm not sure how well they succeeded.

"A holy gift...
Carve it! Sear it! Stew it!
For the work to sustain...
Is this enough? Is it ever enough?"




Assumedly these Pondcatchers were members of Belhart as well, there to hunt and support their settlement. All but one lost their mind, sadly.

"Watch the ripples, read the reeds...
The pond's bounty, hidden... under...
Hunt to feed, to feed... them..."




The Underworkers, in all their different roles. Poor souls who had been promised a reward for their tireless effort, only to be forgotten in their labor.

"We... were chosen... these halls kept clean.
Shells bend, shells break, rest and fade...
The sacred toil... through duty, purity.
For the light, unseen... see us faithful!"




A sorry beast, Loam worked endlessly under the assumption the Citadel was watching and waiting to reward him. It was upon encountering him that I realized just how cruel this place was.

"This shell, still strong... More, more, more...
Harder, longer... see me work, for your light..."




Not yet a worker, but the Scabfly will grow into one soon enough. Their caste sinned so terribly, their descendants were condemned to serve as jailers in the Slab perpetually... yikes.

"Born in filth... Sinner!
Be still! Be still!
No light! No escape!"




The Guardfly and Wardenfly. They're a gross lot, so it's believable that their kind deserved their punishment. Yet given the Citadel's tendencies, do you think they really committed any sin at all?

"Why was I born in the filth?
By toil... by torment, I'll be cleansed.
I'm clean... I'm cleaner!
You! The filth! It's you!
You! You are the sinner!"




Worth noting here: if you stumbled upon a Wardenfly on the hunt for sinners, they would have a unique song to match their task.

"Let my duty absolve me...
O sinner! O filth!
Lay yourself down... be caged! Be caged!"




The Judges of the Blasted Steps, they seemed to strike down every pilgrim that passed by. Were they always so severe in judgment, or did the Haunting inflame their zeal?

"Glory to the gilded... ever vigilant!
Pass only the pure... only the holy may judge!
The edict, absolute... crush sin upon the step!"





As brutal as the lesser judges but far more lethal, this Last Judge held the great gate of the Citadel shut. We can assume it stayed shut since the Haunting began.

"Our duty, eternal... the purity of flame.
Smite the sinners! Only the holy may judge!
Only the pure may pass! For the Citadel strong!"

We know the Weavers intended to keep their Pale Monarch lulled in slumber through the continuous song of the Citadel. But, what did the servants and members of the Citadel believe they were doing?




The Choir Pouncer, Flyer, and Hornhead are some of the few pilgrims to complete their journey and join the Choir of the Citadel. Noteworthy: the Choir Elder sings what the haunted pilgrims do on their ascent... why doesn't he join the rest?

"I am chosen! To live eternal, in the light...
Your ringing halls... your shining walls...
None shall starve... none shall die...
Is this the way? When may I rest?
The song... where is the song?"





Jubilana's a suspicious and thrifty old gal with an eye for trinkets. Rare to see an aged pilgrim, and given that Hornet has to save her twice, it's a wonder she's lived so long.

"Long and lonely halls... darker now than ever before.
Hide away... holy sight... gather what you can! Sweet gifts!"





Within the dining hall, Loyal Mergwin and his master the Great Gourmand continue to... what exactly are they doing? Supposedly, the finest connoisseur who has ever lived... Truth, or delusion? Inconclusive. Included here are both their songs. You can guess which one's which.

"Oh glorious master!
Your holy, shining gaze! So majestic! So mighty!
Your taste, so refined! You are the best of us!"

"EAT... FEED...
MUCH... EAT... GOOD...
FOOD... MEAT... MUCH...
EAT... EAT..."





Envoy. Bellbearer. Choristor. Reed. These various servants of the Citadel still wander the halls, singing and posturing ritualistically.

"Holy call of the Citadel... fill the chambers, sacred song.
Raise your voices, chosen few! Waver not! Wither not!
The song sustains! All must gather! All must sing!
Our voices will be heard! For our song, the precious Silk!"





The Grand Reed, an elite among their warriors for their prowess and their devotion. Despite that, I still found them to be a good pit stop for spare rosaries.

"Those worthiest may climb the holy heights of the Citadel...
May my shell never break, may my voice never fade.
May I rise, may I rise... for my devotion, unending."





The Scrollreader, Lampbearer, and Vaultkeeper continued their duties... whatever those duties were. What secrets lie in all those writings? We'll probably never know.

"Holy secrets, sacred whispers... hidden dark and deep.
Ours to guard, ours to keep... words that only we may speak.
Songs that only we may sing!"





The Vaultborn were sealed away, behind a hidden door, presumably since the Haunting began. Why was that? Some type of incubation?

"We are blessed! We are chosen! The scrolls have spoken!
Holy words for us to speak! Secret songs for us to keep!"





The last of his kind still sane, Vaultkeeper Cardinius begrudgingly shares insights into the Citadel. Despite his impudence, he did genuinely want to keep the prayers and songs and history of the eternal kingdom from being forgotten.

"Transcend this mind so limited... escape this shell constricting...
Through knowledge, release... through understanding, power...
Pharloom! Reveal your secrets..."





The Maestro and the Minister had an impressive looking visage. I should have liked to see them in their duties prior to their madness.

"Holy masters! Great Conductors!
Your vision guides us... your devotion compels us!
Highest of the high! Grant us resonance!"





The size of the Choir Clapper's body, and his mallet, gave him the means to demand reverence from any in the High Halls.

"Prostrate your meager shells!
Bow your heads in reverence!
Tremble before our masters!
Know our lords divine!"





Conductor Ballador, he was the last one of his kind. They kept a key role in orchestrating the continuous songs of the Citadel, which would have surely been a sight to behold.

"Dear devout... have we failed?
Remember our voices, now only silence...
Only our sickness... only our song..."





The Citadel charged the Memoria to keep a remembrance of Pharloom's different biomes. I assume this is because they all (like Verdania) might well fade into obscurity under their influence.

"These lands, eternal... Saved, preserved, perfect.
Our past, remembered... What was will not be forgotten."





These Surgeons performed cruel operations and modifications on their patients, in pursuit of banishing sickness and death, and in doing so unknowingly made easy vessels for the Grand Mother to latch onto.

"O death! O sinful waste!
We banish you! We cut you away!
None may rest or idly lie... none may die!
None may die! Silk, holy life..."





The role of Mortician does not seem a pleasant one, but it's one this bug seemed to take reverence in. All those bodies, and all the Silk they recycled from them...

Holy, wonder... preserved through flame.
Let nothing be wasted... even these husks, even these dregs.
All are holy... all our needed! Save the Silk... the beautiful Silk."





I assume these penitents were residents of the Citadel who, by their own choice, locked themselves here to pay for their sins... real, or imagined.

"Punish us... cleanse us...
Chastise us... o shame!
Holy silence... swallow our shame...
Shame! Shame!"





An Old Penitent who happens to have the deepest baritone rumble of any singer in Pharloom. I have a suspicion he is the Penitent, Second of the Fourth, but information towards this end is limited.

"From wastes, from darkness...
Drawn down... blessed call...
Sisters... accord... voices... pleading...
Silence above... the sin... the sin!"

Even creatures were not exempt from the Haunting madness. Among the wildlife of Pharloom, some may have been naturally aggressive, but there were others that weren't quite so hostile.




The first encounter upon entering this foreign kingdom. I'm sure Hornet would have cuddled the furry little Mossgrubs... if not for the spikes.

"Young must eat, grow or die...
Sleep and change, have no fear...
Call for danger, hide away...
Protect us, mother!"




Fertids are docile and skittish little bugs with no survival mechanisms besides some primitive camouflage. Simple creatures that demonstrate how the land wasn't always so dangerous.

"Shells soft... leaves hide...
Between bone we sprout...
From heat we grow..."




Skullwings share the same song as their relatives higher up in the world, but they are content to live deep near the flames. Life diverges at strange corners, it seems.

"Shells are strong, claws are sharp...
Scratching, seeking, rumbling, crackling, digging, hiding...
Warm and dark..."





... this is a bug, right? An odd creature with a disturbing mask, the Hoker only reacts in pointed fashion when attacked. Otherwise, floating and staring is enough for it.

"Dwellings deep, rising heat...
Predators near, spines to spear..."




The Pondskipper and Shellwood Gnat are bugs of the woods that would probably be harmless in times gone past. These are different times, however.

"Climbing, climbing... creeping, creeping...
Shifting root... grasping branch...
High and low, all around..."




Squirrm's are innocent looking grubs that will one day become the brutal judges of the Blasted Steps. A classic dilemma: is it wrong to kill a youngling, knowing they will grow into a monster?

"Warmly shifting, dancing sands...
Let's grow stronger! Let's grow holy! All together! All together!
We are chosen! All are chosen! We will serve! All will serve!"




The Cragglite will one day grow into a Craggler, though they'll supposedly kill each other until one remains. Since there can be only one Craggler, where did they come from after the singular big boy bit the dust? Hmm...

"The great one, defeated... our time has come.
Fallen shell, fallen feast! Now we grow... we grow."




Miremites, like the Squit bugs, adapted to the poisonous environment of Bilewater. It doesn't seem interested in who's around; its exploding bile sack is a fine deterrent.

"Survive in smog, feed... or starve...
Choke on bile... resist the rot..."




What a peaceful bug in the midst of a hazardous world. The Mothleaf Lagnia seems to enjoy its surroundings, refusing to become toxic in body or mind.

"Land... so fertile...
Water... so nourishing...
Air... so warm...
Life... light... threads..."




Driftlin float carefree in convenient jump spots up the mountain. A traditional 'plot progression' enemy, but it serves its purpose well. Some theorize they are related to the Fayforn.

"Mother, mother, gleam so brightly...
Drifty, drifty, oh so nicely...
Lightly, lightly, oh so lightly...
Glidey! Glidey! Glidey!"




Freshflys, freshly hatched. They've been breathing for five seconds, and they still can deal damage to Hornet. By accident I would say, as they don't seem aware of much at all.

"Warm air... Mother...
Light! Light! Eat! Eat!"




Interesting how an almost cute and naive creature like the Broodling can turn into that revolting mother that preceded her. This thing has one goal: eggys. Lots of 'em.

"Eggy, eggy, big and warm...
When you're hungry, eat and eat!
Grow bigger, bigger, oh so big...
Fill your belly with lovely eggs!"




Hardbone Hoppers and the more mature Elders. Hornet notes that they would probably make a fine steed... an interesting thought for fanart.

"World's breath, rustling leaf... hard bone beneath.
Roaming, feeding, distant depths...
Mark of circle, mark of death."

The call of the wild was strong in these lands. One certain flea tells us that if you respect the beasts, the beasts respect you... well, maybe in normal circumstances. These ones were keen to rip you a new one.




A basic foe with a basic purpose, Mossmirs serve to acclimate Hornet to the dangers she was up against.

"Young must eat, grow or die...
Sleep and change, have no fear...
Call for danger, hide away...
Protect us, mother!"




You threaten a mama's babies, and you put yourself in danger. This Moss Mother was no different.

"For none but us... follow creeping green...
My young, my young... eat, grow, hide away...
See my form, now! See what you'll become!"




An abnormally bulky boi, these Massive Mossgrubs should have matured long ago, but instead just kept on getting thicker and chonkier. I presume this is because of the Memorium's meddling?

"Mother's voice, distant... Little sisters, hide away...
Change... hidden change... eat and grow, larger..."




Skull Skuttlers and Brutes, Mawlings and Marrowmars, Kiliks and Beastflys and Caranids. All creatures of the lowland that, despite some differences, interestingly sang the same song of survival.

"Shells are strong, claws are sharp...
Scratching, seeking, rumbling, crackling, digging, hiding...
Warm and dark..."




Largest of the Marrow's predators, and the biggest temper south of the Sands of Karak, the Skull Tyrant wore the skull of an even larger beast. Now that would be a fight worth seeing!

"Crowned as ruler... all beasts must bow!
Crush and smash! Break and bash!"




The Savage Beastfly was one of the great beasts of the lowlands that, according to Hornet, fought against encroaching civilization. Also the focus of a particularly humorous reddit thread.

"Distant dark, vivid red...
Scars and cracks and stolen lives...
Break through, break through... fly far, fly far!
Ancestor's echo, rumbling cry!
Hunt the weak, devour the dead!"




The curious little Aknid didn't have much bite, but that didn't stop it from going in for a nibble. Trying to nibble on Hornet? Bold.

"Flee the danger...
Seek the sweet...
Fill the nest...
For the hatchling..."




Hornet viewed the Wood Wasps as a disruption to Shellwood's ecosystem, probably due to how fast those hives spit 'em out.

"Find the scent, drink the sap...
Dig in deep, protect the nest..."




The Flintgems this bug grows like organs produce incendiary sparks. How the Flintbeetle doesn't blow itself up is quite a feat...

"World's breath, distant call...
Find the glint... seek the gleam...
Spark bright... defy the dark...
Crack them... crunch them..."




One of the most aggressive beasts around, the Rhinogrund had a habit of throwing itself, its enemies, the ground... pretty much anything that could be bulldozed into the air.

"Vast... wild... gouging rock...
Scarred shell! Break through!"




There can only be one Craggler, and given its disposition I can see why. An impressive and volatile creature.

"Become like stone...
Sear their shells...
Larger, greater!
All is mine... only mine!"




Insatiable and unrelenting, Muckroaches are vicious enough to unnerve even Hornet's smooth demeanor. They don't look too tasty but, when you're starving...

"Gouge and gnaw, bite and claw...
Eat it all... more and more!"




Was the Bloatroach a Muckroach at one point? It's bloated beyond normality due to the Citadel's exhaust; hardly a unique case beneath this kingdom's reckless crown.

"Warm waters teeming... soft shells...
Burn them, bite them, swallow them...
Gurgling, gasping... meat inside..."




Driznit and Driznarga, Furm and Pokenabbin and Conchfly. A whole ecosystem, adapting to sand over water.

"Our shells made strong... our nest made secret...
The crust covers... the crust conceals..."




The Crustcrag is presumably a Crustcrawler that was deformed in some attempt at... what? Survival? The Memorium's purposes here were strange at times.

"Poison light... painful lash...
False chambers... long teeth...
Water's source... hidden, lost...
Crackling, growing, stretching shell..."




These Great Conchflies were in quite a mood and chose to take it out on our hero. Not the best idea.

"We found each other... together! Stronger!
This small one, trapped... protect our caves.
Pierce the stone! Break the shell!"




They already seemed angry, but this one was now raging. Losing a mate will do that to you, though it was hard to feel bad given they were the aggressors.

"Empty... nest... Lost! Lost! Alone! Alone!
That scent... carried still... crush! Crush! Pierce your shell!"




Hornet states the Bell Eater resembled a monster from the tales of her youth... now I'm curious to hear what these stories were! Maybe a little content for a future release...?

"Great noise... louder... world trembles...
Long slumber... wake now...
We must... feed... feed... eat..."

Pharloom was a land of wishes granted, and there were many denizens with requests and offers for Hornet. The Citadel was no friend to the free, so friends were easy to find along the road.




Those who stepped the holy path found renewed strength in cheerful Belhart. Pavo, Frey, Pondcatcher Reed, and any others who joined in all sang the same song here.

"Almost there... still alive...
We serve, safe... we serve, selfless...
Gleaming rest... for the pilgrims, many..."




Relic Seeker Scrounge says her obsession with historical relics is from a respect for the past... though is her motivation to preserve history, or simply to hoard it for herself?

"Stained by history, the past's long shadow!
Whispers of the dead... Relics... precious and fragile!
Keep them close... keep them safe!"




Pinmaster Plinny helped sharpen Hornet's blade to perfection, but he counted it all joy to take a pin's form to the limit. Bonva!

"Sharper, sharper, can't you see...
All blades honed perfect as can be!
We'll work and serve until we fall...
May Pharloom's pins glean bright for all!"





The Pinmaster made the risky journey across the void threaded woods just to visit the grave of Melatolla, a short lived but passionate love affair.

"At world's dim end, we met.
Claw's touch, warm whisper...
That memory, my treasure.
Shining moments, brief, eternal..."



Couriers Tipp and Pill are funny fellows who provided a nice break in Hornet's quest to see what being a courier was like.

"Bring it now, bring it now!
Carefully, careful now!
Not too hasty, now!
Not too slowly, now!"




Loddie and his assistant sought to add a little levity to the world in troubled times. And I have to say it... how strong of a shell does that ladybug have?!

"Old tribe's gone... spread your wings!
Count your spots, take your aim...
Let's win! Let's lose! Life's for playing!"




Alchemist Zylotol was taken in by the forbidden blood's allure. But the real question: who is the master who sent him here to grow it?

"All secrets, all knowledge...
Heal all wounds, escape even death...
Plasmium, potent, pure!"




Hornet noted the danger of Plasmium, recognizing it as the Lifeblood found in Hallownest. Our alchemist here could not see the danger himself, however...

"A source, dear one...
Life for you, life for all..."




Creige kept a warm hearth open on the wet plains for passing pilgrims. A safe spot to rest... as long as you didn't go into the basement.

To sit, to rest... to stop. A hearth stoked hot...
Pharloom's warmth... nectar from the teat."




After the collapse, Creige was still holding strong on Greymoor. He may be running out of aged nectar, but you know he'll be open till the last drop.

"Cold... the last... nectar...
Safety still... the last... warmth..."




A couple of odd but good-humored bugs, Crull and Benjin view themselves as philosophers of a sort. Hey, who am I to judge?

"Grey guts, ragged shell...
Nothing left but dust to sell...
Sat amidst the putrid smell!
Knock me on the head, old girl!"




Yarnaby was exiled from Belhart as all her patients, uh... died. Still, her Extricator was invaluable for the one person who could survive it.

"Yarnaby! The tortured one! They hate, they lie!
None else can see the truth... yet Yarnaby will save them...
Tear away their pain! Pry apart the jaws of fate!"




Once, the order of Pinstresses were renowned in Pharloom, and collaborated with the Citadel. Until for reasons unknown they were betrayed, and now only two remain.

"The flurried dance of blades swung swift...
Warriors proud in battle's midst.
I remember you, my sisters passed...
You were the finest bravest caste.
Lethal talents beyond compare...
An order lost of maidens fair."




Judging by this Pinstress's skills, her order was formidable indeed! A resilient and stubborn soul, though quite likable in my opinion.

"Sisters, faded... all's adrift...
One final clash... one final gift...
Pin's edge, Kingdom's peak...
A noble end is all we seek!"




A Pinstress who gave up her pin, the now-Seamstress has embraced a quiet life working with her hands. I wonder though... does she keep herself busy to forget about the sisters she lost?

"Fix the fabric, roll the hem...
Mend the tears and twine the thread...
Darn it. Stitch it. Make it whole...
Spin and spin. Forget the dead..."




It is a mother's instinct to provide and care for her young, though for this Huntress she preferred to not offer herself up as the meal.

"Stalk, and smell, and seek... soar the caverns high.
Chase the prey fled I fear. All must feed...
That I may see your claws sharp...
That I may know your masks bold..."




If Hornet doesn't assist the Huntress in her hunting, she's forced to put her body on the menu. One Runt was left behind, still in need of some grub (pun intended).

"Why so weak? Why so small?
To feed... To grow, and be..."




The hyper-enthusiastic Sprintmaster Swift has a need for speed, and Hornet just so happened to be the bug to meet his challenge.

"Movement is life! Speed is strength!
Faster now, faster now! Even fate can be outpaced!"




Trobbio seemed a tad... touched. But unlike the madness around him, his was simply a charismatic fervor, meant to enflame the passions of Pharloom and revive the kingdom. Through theatrical means?

"Awake Pharloom! Awake and witness!
A performer unmatched!
These wings blaze radiant!
See my spark! See my flare!
The light! The heat! The glory!
Your savior... your hero... Trobbio!"




The kingdom's collapse broke our thespian, but I don't believe he was affected by the void. Rather, it was simple despair that made him Tormented.

"Pain, despair, torment...
Woe... woe...
Alone against the dark...
Scorned to suffer...
Light's final gleam...
Fell fated fallen!"

There are many dark crevices throughout Pharloom, and different manner of creature had found their home in such spaces. Hiding, waiting to pounce...




The Pharlid arachnids populated all manner of hole and cave around Pharloom; perhaps that's why they were named so similarly to the land. Or perhaps, because of the truth that one sinner knew.

"To hide, to nest, to live...
Our darkness, our caves... always ours."




These Mite pests infested endless corners and cracks of the world. Weak on their own, I wonder what it would be like to face a horde of their hidden number.

"Deeper, darker... hide below them...
Smell it, starving... find it, take it...
Claw and fang... shriek and scratch them..."




How one of those little mites could grow so large is beyond me. The Mitemother used her girth to crush unsuspecting red maidens.

"Darker, quieter... more, raise the many...
Screech and smash them, rip and rend..."




Yet another mite growing to enormous proportions, this Giant Drapemite draped cloth over its face. Interesting how so many bugs in this world feel the compulsion to cover their faces.

"Hidden long, waiting long...
Scalding breath, take cover...
Golden claws, snap them...
Double steps, strike quickly!"




Gromlings were ambushing worms who, once they became a Grom, lost their desire for sneak attacks and instead focused on ceaseless churning through rock. An interesting development.

"Deep scent, find it... find it...
Through bone... through shell...
Dig... dig... dig..."




The Tarmite, with the Lavalug and Lavalarga, were creatures born with fire in their bellies and a desire to live deep near the heat. Thank the Forge Daughter for that Magma Bell.

"Deeper... hotter... fee its burn.
Protection in pain... never enough."




Furms were like many burrowers looking to hide in the dark and nest. Why they prefered the Bellvein, and why they loved using bells as protection, only they know.

"Rings from high, hide away...
Rings from low, hidden prey...
Watch the darkness, hear the bells...
Shining shells, find your own..."




The Broodmother, a disgusting mama of a disgusting order. So this is what they meant by 'born in filth' huh...

"Eat the food... Yummy! Yummy!
Grow the brood... Hatchy! Hatchy!
Warmly, safely... eggy, eggy..."




The Shardilliard didn't look devious, but it did pose as a fossil and then went berserk on ya... whatever works.

"May rock sustain me...
May the world ignore me...
May darkness hide me...
May time harden me..."




The Swamp and Spit Squit had somehow adapted to the sickly water of their fetid environment, storing acid within themselves. An explosive strategy for life, and death.

"Survive in smog, feed... or starve...
Choke on bile... resist the rot..."




Somehow, maybe not a surprise, the young form of the Muckroach was just as nasty. Who here enjoyed their gauntlet run past the pools of this buggers?

"Eat and grow... grow or die!
Poison's flow... eat! Eat! Eat!"




The Barnak and the Ductsucker were clearly different, yet each had a similar vibe to the other. Was this an adaptive evolution of a common ancestry, or just a byproduct of living in the smog of the Putrified Ducts?

"Slime, slick... sliding, wet...
Touching, tasting... eating, eat...
Swallow, swell... swallow, suffer..."




Drapeflys and their Drapelords, more bugs with that instinctual desire to cover their faces. In this case, with the rags and ruined linen they infest.

"Larger, hide away! Hiding, hiding...
Smaller, catch the prey! Swooping and feeding..."




After Hornet saved Styx from some Muckroaches, he bonded to her as slave and mistress (despite her objections). Though, I'm glad this one was an ally... I suspect he could be a vicious ambusher.

"Seek... and hide...
Our nest, our heaven...
Old laws, fresh wounds...
The weak must serve... the strong, provide...
The precious, sweet life..."




A Snitchfly would almost be a humorous fellow if it weren't robbing you blind. The collapse of the Sitty-dell became a boon for their kind, no doubt.

"Click clacky, lovely lovely!
What you got there, matey matey?
Show me, show me... give me, give me!
Drop it now, naughty naughty!
Shiny shiny, takey takey!"




It is unclear to me what distinguished Grindle from the rest of his brethren; is a snitchbug different from a snitchfly? He seemed like a figurehead among them, and he was actually interested in chatting... if only to try some swindling.

"Caves ripe for us snitches... Sneaking, snatching... treasures and trinkets...
What I got is mine, my love... What I take is what I got!
What you got is mine, my love... We take it if we want!
What they got I'll take my love! Give it all to us!"

There used to be many factions in Pharloom, in times past. Most of the natural inhabitants have faded, but a few remnants remained, keeping the past alive.




The eccentric if not a bit crazed Moss Druid seemed to have visions from her moss berry brew. Whether they were real or not, I can't say.

"The world's rhythms, beating beating...
In coral, in shell, in branches, in fields!
And why not here?! Beat beat beat!"




The Chapel Maid, the Bell Hermit, and the Caretaker: last of the snail tribe in Pharloom. They each coped with their circumstances in different ways. Nevertheless, they came together and gave their all to assist Hornet in the end.

"Hide and wait, hide and watch... a kingdom lost.
Glimmering trails, spiraling outward.
O soulful ones... Only a simple bug...
Our power, so many souls. Strength in despair..."




Skarrlids and Skarrwings. I wonder if these were a different type of ant, or would they eventually grow into the larger members of their clan?

"Away... toward...
Find it... take it...
For her! For her!
Strong together! Strong forever!"




Skarr Scouts and Stalkers, Spears and Skarrgard. Impressive warriors, trained in combat from their youth. When rallied together, a fierce threat they would be.

"No nest, no home.
The caves call, we listen...
These lands, always ours.
Strength from her... strength for her.
To leap, and run, and slay!
Strike hard, strike lethal.
All for the singer... is this still her song?"




The Mottled Skarr hid out here for good reason. An ant warrior afflicted with some kind of 'mark', his brethren were against him because of it. Why?

"The last, loyal... loved. All for her...
Strength... faded. Why this way?"




Another unnamed diseased Skarr bearing these marks, it also wasn't hostile to Hornet. Maybe the result of the mark? Or its isolation?

"We still hear it... our mark is no curse.
For death, I give death... Strength shall not fade."




Yet another Skarr afflicted and rejected, Gurr the Outcast had certainly proved his marks were no curse. He hunted Hornet, not for the blindly hostile reasons of the other ants, but to prove something... maybe to himself.

"The last... the hunt...
Pale prey... come to me..."




The Splinter tribe had tormented many a pilgrim on the path under the guidance of Sister Splinter, their... mother? Leader?

"Monster, monster, run away!
Hidey hidey, here I lay!
Brother, brother, time to play!
Sister, sister, your dismay!"




Whether Sister Splinter killed Nyleth, or simply took up residence in her absence, it's theorized that vacancy left room for the stick kin to take reign of Shellwood.

"Creeping, creaking...
Other, other, sleeping deep...
Sisters, sisters, so long gone!
This land is ours, now!
By our claws, none but us now!
Children, children, hide and strike!"




The birdlike Craw, both tall and squat, sat high and swooped in to harass and steal from passerbys. As one wise academic said: the worst kind of parasite? Opportunists.

"Our caves! Our land! Our nest! Our clan!
Swoop and scratch... crack their skulls...
Take their treasures! Shiny, shiny, all for us!"




The Craw Jurors who formed the Court of Craws had gathered to pronounce judgment on Hornet. I wonder what other issues this court has ruled on.

"Father, Father! Punish the villain!
Guilty! Guilty! Lay down your judgment!"




The Crawfather arrived at the conclusion (not unfairly) that Hornet was responsible for the turmoil that befell their land. He was incorrect, however, that they were capable of punishing her.

"O clattorous chorus! Hear me, hear me!
This spinderous spiderling... a calamitous criminal!
Sinner! I say sinner! I condemn! I punish!"




A Karaka warrior, though far more adept than his kin of old, despite his ancient shell. The Watcher at the Edge sang the song of his coral tower... I wonder what he was keeping watch for?

"For the river long... for the lord born strong...
For life... its beat, its flow...
For order brought by claw and blade..."




These Stilkin hunters pestered Hornet with aggravating hit and run tactics. Has anyone entered Bilewater and NOT been aggravated by these fellows?

"Dark, twisting, betrayal's heart...
Flowing poison, hidden claw...
Their shadow, our shame...
Our land! Their grave!
They wither! We survive!
They fall! We rise!"




Groal the Great raged against the Citadel for poisoning their home through runoff; can you blame him? He acquired a Vengeful Soul through a snail shaman, and his hate boiled over.

"Swirling, pale flame... this power is ours!
Behold! True strength! No truce, no bargain...
All are subject to my rule! Obey me! Obey me!"




The Mask Maker has unique eyes, and recognized Hornet as a monarch yet with room for growth. He makes masks due to a contract of some sort, like a creature of similar role we met in Hallownest.

"Fresh faces for all... A land, defined...
A mask to hide... a mask to be...
What greater gift?"

Included here are the songs around and within the old hearts of the kingdom's past. Power existed in these lands long before the monarch bound it all to her; what is remembered is never lost.




It's common among many bugs to continuously grow; how large the Skarrsinger Karmelita grew with her age. Her voice, a diminished fragment of what it once was...

"Remember, my children...
All for you, my hunters strong...
Curse the creature pale...
Remember the song..."




In Karmelita's memory, she recalled the multitude of Skarr warriors who rallied behind her song. A force strong enough to resist the Grand Mother... if only for a time.

"For the mother... for the singer...
For these hunters bold. Stalk proud, roam far...
For you, my children... For you, I sing..."




The last queen of the ant hunters, her voice was magical in sharp contrast to the average Skarr. The only female of their kind that we see, I think. I wonder if they are natural leaders in their ranks.

"My children! My hunters!
Hear my song! Know my pride!
My voice will not fade! Feel my claws!"




Nyleth was such a force that even the Citadel, who drove other powers out of the land, made accord with her, and created this shrine to honor the ancient heart of Shellwood.

"Spirit of the wood...
To seed, to grow...
Health of the heart...
Distant reach, distant life..."




I imagine in Nyleth's day, Shellwood was a much different place. Her grace allowed bugs to pass through safely on their way to the Citadel.

"Grow... settle... seed...
Serve... eat... sustain...
Twist... wind... protect...
Bramble... root... branch..."




Nyleth. The one who sowed the first seed, the essence of Shellwood itself, and her that once was and always is. Quite a resume!

"Wandering seed... The form, a memory...
Convened within, lost without... you too, distant shape...
It longs, the whole... reaching... forward and out..."




The old shells of an order who once ruled over half of Pharloom. Confined to their tower, forced to fade in obscurity...

"All to bow... all lost to fear...
Now none to resist, but us...
Alone, against the pale light...
Remember our rule, remember our strength..."




The entrance to the Coral Tower of old. If I understand correctly, water used to flow freely through the now Sands of Karrak. It would have been a different world back then.

"The tower, tall... Beat, flow... The river...
By claw, by us... Great lord... Might..."




In the present, just a crumbled ruin; in the past, a soaring structure of incredible beauty.

"For the river long... for the lord born strong...
For life... its beat, its flow...
For order brought by claw and blade..."




Within memories, most enemies did not respond to the Needolin. But for some reason, the Yuma echoed the song sung by modern crust coral creatures. Curious.

"Our shells made strong, our nest made secret...
The crust covers... the crust conceals..."




A warlord who ruled by strength and fear, the Crust King Kahn and his legion were the last resistance standing against the Grand Mother.

"Serve and die! Let the weak crumble away!
By strength, overwhelm! Hone yourself!
Defy your limits! In my name, conquer all!"




Verdonia. A land that was completely forgotten, except by one prince. Through Hornet's somber melody, the land was enlivened one final time.

"Lands green... paths wild...
Free... Forgotten..."




The Green Prince sings this song, and it reverberates throughout the whole land of his memories.

"All born free... all born brave...
Stones washed green... sprout tall, spread far...
Teeming, thriving... for shoot, and sheath, and blade...
Peace earned by claw... Paths lost in shade..."




Somehow, even in a memory, the Palestag shines like a mythological creature. Even Hornet questioned whether it existed like this at all.

"What is remembered... may echoes gather.
Lonely specks, adrift... forgotten or lost.
Facets many, shining apart... winding ways meet again."




Within his deepest memories, the Green Prince recalled their seat of sovereignty, and the love he lost. Yet Hornet was not so empathetic, thinking it either selfless or vain to love one so similar to oneself. Their nearly identical birth foretold they would be cursed... were they something close to siblings?

"Our land... our hearts together.
Our strength... our joy, together.
Our wish... reflection made real."




The tragic love story of the Clover Dancers. The Green Prince became hostile and struck at Hornet here... he got to dance one last time with his partner.

"Hearts entwined, hearts united, each breathe shared...
What life alone? What kingdom without you? An end... together."




Inside Hornet's deepest memories, the whispers and desires of those in her past still sing out. She's lived the length of countless lives, and she still chooses her own path.

"Child born pale... Hunt, seek, slay...
Child born bound... Watch, wait, pray...
Warrior Princess... Warrior Queen..."

A wonder of Pharloom were the machines which served the eternal kingdom. What powered these constructs? Many released a Silkfly upon their demise, which was clearly an animating factor.





Not like the other mechanical creations we discover, Pious Isamor is a more primitive design. Perhaps it was meant as an automated guide for pilgrims passing through at one point?

"Devout... unwavering.
Siblings... serving.
Pilgrims... all.
All... are equal."




The Clawmaidens, some early form of mechanical life dependent on a steady stream of Silk. One of the most pesky fiends in the whole Citadel if you ask me!

"Your strength... your silk...
Ours by birth... ours by right..."




The Twelfth Architect. She was the last of her model and still hard at work, creating more Cogwork beings... I have lots of thoughts and questions about these Architects. Regardless of that backstory, she provided Bug-Red with valuable tools on her journey.

"Always an Architect... Designs... Divine...
From these memories, skill...
From these thoughts, creation...
To mend, unending... to serve, eternal..."




The Cogworkers, and all the many types of Cogwork bugs, served to keep the mechanical guts of the Citadel functioning. Intended to work without sleep or complaint, they fulfilled their purpose even as the world around crumbled.

"The Core... Holy...
To serve, to mend... Work... eternal...
Lift it... fix it... me? Am I... who?"




The Fourth Chorus was an impressive feat of technology, and likely weakened by the Seamstress defeating it so long ago; I imagine a fierce fight with it at full strength. It released dozens of Silkflies upon its death, an interesting note.

"SACRED... TOIL... SACRED... LIGHT...
SONG... HOLY... VOICES... TOGETHER...
WE... ARE... MANY... WE... ARE... ONE...
UNENDING... UNYIELDING... STRONG... STRONG..."




If I had to guess, I would say these are the Second and Third Choruses? Unawakened, they were never called upon to seek out the Citadel's enemies. If that is indeed their central purpose.

"WE... ALL... TOGETHER..."




Fascinating creations with beautiful symmetry, the Cogwork Dancers were an interesting choice for guardians over the elevator into the Cradle. More interesting once we learned the tragic story behind their creation.

"The gilded threshold! Claws clash! Blades sing!
To dance! Our duty! Our honor! Our peace!
You and I... I and you... we shall never... dance alone!"




After its partners demise, the remaining Cogwork Dancer lost itself. Much like a certain prince we met...

"Threshold... claws... blades...
To dance... our peace...
You and I... dance alone..."




One of the most soulful of the mechanicals (in my opinion), the Second Sentinel is yet another last-of-its-kind. It honorably holds fast to its duty of protecting all within the Citadel.

"Siblings... Gone...
Awake... Alone... Forever?
Cut down the cursed, protect the pure...
Save this Citadel..."




A creation of the Weavers, Servitor Ignims continue to function long after their makers have gone. Their duty to light the way is taken seriously to the day.

"Watch their halls... remember their song...
Obey their laws... keep their secrets...
Execute their will... await their return..."





Unlike their smaller counterparts, the Servitor Borans have degraded to the point of not recognizing Hornet's Weaver blood. Their only operating function seems to be attack.

"WAKE... guard... WAKE... peak... ascent...
Obey... LOSTORHIDDEN... keep... IMPULSELOST...
REFORMINSTINCT... ENEMY..."




While not a machine, and I can't be certain, but I suspect Sula is more steel than bug. They were tasked with living undying while the land around them dies? I don't fully understand, but I also suspect we'll learn more in a future title.

"The masters' sight...
Always to watch... bound, forever.
Escape! Escape!
The spires... and beneath... cruel as steel!"





Steel Seer Zi, much like Steel Soul Jin, are fascinating children of steel who serve unseen masters. I look forward to meeting said masters one day.

"Bound by ore... Bound by purpose...
Watch long... Record clear... Remember...
Forever..."

Pharloom was home to many marvels, both fascinating and horrifying, magical and alien. Collected here are all the oddities that don't neatly fit into other categories.




The Phacia, Pollencia, Gahlia. These plantlike creatures all shared attributes with Nyleth. If she were still alive, would they be peaceful? I'm sure even the flowers have their stories to tell.

"Sleeping, sleeping... voice! Wake!
Voice calls out...
Thirsty roots creeping down...
Drifting, dancing, falling seeds..."




Wisps are born from a special flame, living only a brief moment before expiring. What a life... they seem to take delight in it, at least.

"Call us, call us... swoop, burn, seek!
Burning shape, all together... burn it! Burn it!"




So the Burning Bugs controlled the Wisps through the Wispfire Lanterns. Did they create them through their own magic?

"Father, father! Sear us, scold us!
Fire is all! All is fire!"




The Burning Bugs built this totem... is the totem the Father of the Flame, or does it merely house his presence? Their desire is to become one with their father, in sweet immolation.

"To meet you... Father... Flare together!
Feed us, free us! Burn bright! Burn hot!
Live and die! Dancing, dancing, burn away!"




Wraiths are ghastly beings made of Silk that the Phantom of the Organ somehow projected through her own will.

"Leave this place... Begone, begone!
You are not wanted here! Nothing for you here...
You will be lost... Those who wander... will die...




The Dreg Husk and the Dregwheel were an affront to nature, and a ghastly reminder of what took place in the Whiteward.

"The shell... I was... Remember... shell...
The shell... I was... Lost... lost...
Why? ...again... The pain, forget the pain...
Stretched... thin... I am... fading..."




What seemed to be the remains of Conductor Mizello, the Unravelled was a terrible amalgam of souls left to rot and fuse together in that pit.

"Who... we... where... when...
Cannot see... cannot feel... cannot remember...
Old glory... our claws... our shells...
Your shell... strong! Your Silk... pure! Ours... ours..."





Mnemonid and Mnemonord are formed from remarkable coldshard, an astonishing material that never seems to remain broken. Their thoughts seem broken though, do they mean anything?

"Mem...
Mem... remem...
Rem... mem...
Memem... rem... mem..."





These Weaver burial spires were spread across Pharloom in seemingly random, plot appropriate places. Their power laid dormant for a long time, waiting for the daughter from a distant land to arrive.

"Forgotten... faded... bound... through ages.
Wait, and sleep... Wait, and die...
Our Silk, our memory... for those who come after."





Constricted and locked away for the grave sin of apostasy... that is, for discovering the truth of the Weavers.

"First... faded... forgotten...
Wait, and hate... wait, and die...
Our Silk... our rage..."




The First Sinner would have let her strength be bound to the Half-Weaver... but not before one last test of strength. Then, Hornet may accept her rage.

"The sin... the truth... cursed to know...
Cursed by Silk! Cursed with Silk!
I did not forget! I did not wane!
Sustained by fury!"




These chapels were built as burial grounds and/or memorials for the dead. Hornet found souls in these places she could somehow bind to herself, becoming a multitude within a single shell.

"Remember... the lands revealed...
Once we wandered... we walked...
We climbed... we fell..."




Who constructed a chapel for the beasts? And what kind of beast has a crest that may be bound? Secrets the wild things will keep to themselves.

"Remember... life... death... nature...
Our foes... our food..."




This chapel seems to have been built to honor those who worked the moors back when they were used for food. Yet another moment where I pause to wonder who is this reaper whose crest we bind for ourself?

"Remember... Pharloom flourished...
Sow and reap... gather, for the many...
Honor to the reapers... praise their toil..."




A chapel built for the architects, the Twelfth viewed it as a vault. The crestbearer resting within, is it one of the Choruses?

"Remember... our existence...
As it was built... our memories, our record...
Build... grow... It shall not end..."




Below the ruined chapel, we find more evidence of the snails' questionable ways of acquiring power. The cycle of life dictated we claim theirs.

"Remember... our family...
Our power... all ours..."





A Weaver's curse is the inability to reproduce (barring near impossible circumstance), and Eva was a flawed attempt to defy it. A reminder of their shame, she was hidden deep in the nest. Until, by Hornet's grace, her fate was at last broken.

"This shell of iron... this life confined... this form so fragile...
Our silken sight... our senses' limits... what worlds beyond?"




Phantom was given life, and then discarded, cast aside to serve in the dark. A sad fate, yet she found freedom honorably through a spider.

"Forgotten... discarded... claws quivering...
Shell stiffened... Silk stretched thin...
Show me strength, spider...
Free me! Free me from this fading fate..."





Lace. Here, she seemed to guide the Silkflies; some suspect she is the one who freed Hornet from her runed cage. She's certainly mischievous enough to play games.

"Welcome, spider. Welcome!
Bring ruin... bring chaos...
Feel pain, so pure! Feel freedom false!
Let fate's bindings choke you away!"




Lace was a prime creation of Grand Mother Silk, but thought she didn't care for her, favoring Hornet. Yet the Pale Monarch was ready to tear down all of Pharloom, resisting the dark, to save her child. Oh the tangled web we weave.

"A child, too broken. Why her... Mother...
See me, your knight... See me, your daughter...
See me cut! See me serve!
I will not fade! I will not take!"

The ghostly figures that appeared across the land are called Memories, so I hear. These memories are a heavy weight, but some clinged to them with unseemly devotion... even in death.




At Shellwood we were first prompted to play our strings, for those who lay here silent. Turns out, they weren't so silent after all. The same song is shared between these two graveyards.

"Alone, without you...
Climb and serve... Die and serve...
Not worthy..."




After his tragic death within the supposed safety of Bone Bottom, Pilby's body rested right where Hornet first awoke. For the players that missed it, his singing voice was one of the sweetest.

"Citadel... Pilgrimage...
Sacred... Path... Holy... Reward..."




The shells of the fallen harden the path for others to tread. Some pilgrims made a small recession for their fallen comrade here, leaving his purse (or satchel) behind.

"Dear one... suffer no more.
Held in our hearts, remembered... worthy.
Harden the path."




The Alchemist's assistant, Zango, accomplished his mission of planting Plasmium. I doubt he knew what the reshaping of the world in its vulgar image would look like.

"Too dark... only a little... only a spark...
To our dead lands, life... the buds must grow."




A Smelt Shoveler created the Flintslate here, by the looks of it. A powerful tool to be crafted by an unnamed worker.

"Endless heat... ignite, incinerate.
Pharloom's might, Pharloom's fury..."




According to a note, this pilgrim came down to die on their own terms, rather than stumbling aimless and empty like the Haunted. The memories are fearful... did they die with dignity?

"Where now?
None left...
Lost... alone...
So dark..."




In the Chapel of the Witch we see how many shells hosted a twisted bud. They did not sustain it for long, though that looks like the intended result, with Hornet being the anomaly.

"Ours...
Forgotten...
New growth...
Reborn..."




Underworkers traveled down this way, seeking materials for their Citadel. They worked themselves to death, trying to earn the salvation promised to them.

"Too tired... too hungry...
Heat... and quiet...
Toil no more. In dark, forgotten..."




The Weavers of Weavenest Atla crafted a Snare Setter here. Hornet used it with the snails' power to trap a god... was that its intended purpose all along?

"Our rune, our silk... is it done?
To bind her, tight... to keep us free."




Up above where Styx spoke with his mistress, we found many masks of dead bugs. A question comes to me: how exactly was our friend making these silkeaters?

"My strength or theirs? Who to be? Who is me?
The one to fear... the one who serves... the one who breeds..."




Above the disgraced chef's kitchen, we found this... pantry? From this vantage point, I'm starting to think I know what culinary sin exiled Lugoli.

"Shells to soak, and define...
Essence, true essence.
Pharloom's soul. Pharloom's flavor.
From you all. For you all.
This holy taste, preserved... remembered."




These pilgrims made it so far, only to fade so close. I wonder if others piled them here, after they fell along the way.

"The Citadel... the holy Citadel...
The climb, so sheer... the gate, so near...
Why now, must we fade?"




This Guardfly took to Bilewater while looking for victims to kidnap. A lethal mistake, on his part.

"The voices, everywhere...
They wait, they watch...
Surrounded..."




By an old Ruined Tool of the Weavers, here they once again tried to find means to escape their god. Unfortunately, the monarch's threads stretched far in these lands.

"Strength beyond our Silk...
Strength enough, to build... to hope...
To keep us free..."




Did all these bugs try to pass through Bilewater? Or were they hunted and taken? Their shells, or rather their souls, were needed by the Stilkin to fuel their revenge.

"All your will... all your wishes...
All ours... None beyond..."





Here, we saw a glimpse into what transpired between Phantom and Lace. Unclear who was speaking to whom here, but we could fairly assume it is a mutual thought.

"She spun us to fade. She spun us to break...
Why us? Why us, sister?"

This is part two of the memories you can summon up around Pharloom. I've somewhat organized those in the top half of the land to this section.




This may have been a beauty parlor or affluent lounge. Here bugs gathered, realizing the end of all their opulence was coming.

"All our glory...
All our wealth...
All to end, like this?
Beauty... faded..."




I wonder what was cooked in these kitchens and what bugs of this land would eat under normal circumstance? Surely something better than roach!

"For hunger, unending... to feed, to serve...
All must toil, all must eat..."




A deceased pontiff who held his part of the sacred melody. They found a truth that set them silent, that is the truth of what the Weavers did to their monarch.

"Divine Silk... we sang your chains.
We prayed a cage... damned bugs."




In what seems to be a treasury, rosaries were stored in great quantity. Looks like the higher caste of Citadel members also viewed holiness in the collection of this currency.

"Count, collect, conserve...
Our wealth... our grace... holy measure."




The minds of Architects inspired, who knows what wonders they would have continued to make if not for the fall. Now, empty shells like all the rest.

"Our hope... always eternal. Always another...
Designs, divine... build, craft, pass... can it end?"




An Undercrank who wandered down near the Exhaust Organ. A sad place to fade away.

"This ceaseless sound...
Remember, silence... remember, peace...
No more..."




Loam was a bug designed to run, but he was never meant for a cage. His end was bitter, yet sweet that he finally is free.

"Toil... No more...
Run... Free..."




Perhaps the most lore intensive place in the game. There are so many broken souls in the Whiteward that the same verses rise up across most of the rooms and corridors.

"Straps tight... pins... pain...
Fading... forgotten...
Reformed... repaired...
How old? How long?
The Silk! All for the Silk!"




Down in the pit where the Unraveled laid, countless bodies all piled up. The Citadel's maw chewed them up, until nothing was left.

"Pit... deep...
No release... no escape...
Where? Why?
Lost... lost... Pain, no more..."




This device was for a quote duty most sacred. We can assume it tore the Silk from bugs to create Silkflies, for eternal service. Unnerving.

"To serve, beyond shell... to devote, eternal...
Must we? Why... this pain?
Please... remember my voice..."




No words for this place... I'm sure you can find your own.

"Eternal? No...
Help... please, remember..."




A penitent who wandered too far. I assume he wasn't trying to escape, as their imprisonment was self-imposed. Perhaps they longed for just a view.

"Too weak to return... forgive my silence...
Your light... I failed you..."




Sorry souls who could have been building or maintaining these ducts when they became untraversable. How long ago was that?

"Trapped... so dark...
The bites... the stench... all turned rotten..."




A Pinstress sister who created a Wreath of Purity to survive here. The body, and memory, are the Pinstress's correct? They look awful similar to a Stilkin. Camouflage?

"Feared by all... Revered by all.
Dear sisters... must we hide?"




Here the fanatical Widow sat, musing to or about her 'mother.' Who broke her mask and lodged those pins in her? A poor bug in the thrall of a creature beyond bug.

"Our light divine... our mother, true...
Glory to you. Devotion to you...
We hear you!
Wake... wake... wake...
Spin... Bind... Punish...
Of the first... the last..."




In the divine heart of the kingdom lies this record of kidnapping and.. what else? For what purpose precisely were they brought here?

"Your will, your bounty... your gift, divine.
Holy Silk... Spun. Served. Sacrificed.
That we may sing... that we may pray... that we may bow...
By your grace... highest, holy... eternal."




Hornet believed the Silk couldn't reach this far up. Therefore, the residents of this nameless town had to be coaxed downward to their demise. All but one.

"From depths below, the weaving ones beckon.
Sweet promises whispered, friends seduced...
Now only the wind..."




In the rubble of Pilgrim's Rest, we saw these words come forth. They are reminiscent of Mort's words, while he was alive in this place. Perhaps his hopes continued on?

"Shell... safe...
Pharloom... please... survive..."




And we returned to Bone Bottom, now in ruin. What the remaining souls at the nearby Survivor's Camp sing is echoed here by the fallen.

"Dear Pharloom... help us, save us...
Live... to climb... glory...
Dark... Afraid..."

Finally, there were many things across Pharloom that did not sing out any kind of verse, but nevertheless responded to the Needolin with their own murmurs. The tiniest murmurings all have their meanings, a cryptic shroom once said.





Our trusty traveling companion, and her little Beastlings, didn't have any verse to sing, but boy did they purr oh so affectionately. Was the Bell Beast pregnant from the start of our journey? Where's the father I wonder...





Were all Weavers capable of producing music? I would hope so. Having it as the key to open the doors of their Weavenests was an interesting security measure.






Rune maps were free to acquire when passing through, no Needolin required. However, their harplike components still glistened in response.





Brushflits, like the Maskfly before them, are simple timid bugs that... huh, I don't really know what their purpose is, gameplay wise. They do have a quiet song to offer, if Hornet can get close enough.




I don't know if these little things have a name, but they seem like a lesser form of Pendra. They are developed enough to bob up and down to a tune when they hear one.




A being quite different from a bug, Greyroot infects Hornet with a cursed parasite. Was it malicious in intent, or was it a matter of survival? It doesn't have words to sing, but a primal and rhythmic vocalization unlike anything else in the region.





Like their doors, the Weavers left certain messages encrypted behind a musical lock. These lore tablets seem meant for a traveler just like Hornet.





Silkflies typically moved when approached, but in the Mists these ones lingered around until Hornet hit them with those strings. Appreciated help in that foggy maze.





At first I didn't know what type of creature Skynx was. A bug like Styx? Maybe, but no ssss's in its normal dialogue... when you struck the wall, its roar was quite formidable. Did it consider Silkeaters a snack?




Music attunes the bells and opens the great gate of the Citadel... well, supposedly. Maybe at one point? Now, it just seemed to stir the Last Judge to action.





This was a scene easily missed without foreknowledge of events. Before the First Shrine is rung, we can see a hidden Caretaker taking interest in Hornet's song, but not enough to emerge yet.





The Cogwork Hauler resonated with the Needolin, setting off the volatile rock they're hauling. It looks like self-destruction, but I surmised they merely lost concentration on maintaining their explosive cargo.





Some servitors have broken down, through time and wear. Yet when they heard a Weaver's music, they'd chirp back to life for a brief moment of servitude.





Weavers built this tuning device as a means of summoning a great beast. It might be a moth? Unclear. They viewed the climb up Mt. Fay as a test, with death from the creature as likely a reward as any.





Thankfully, Hornet did not receive death from it, instead getting some nice plumage for her cloak. How thoughtful! The Fayforn cooed along with the Needolin, a cherry on top.





Ahh the potent lil' Cogfly companions, arguably the best tool and certainly the cheesiest way to best a tough foe. They didn't have a voice but they still joined in their own way.





Here we find what was meant to be the culmination of the industrious Architects work: a chamber of endless song to keep the slumbering monarch still. This scene stands as the musical highlight of the game for me, and one of my favorite moments.





The Threefold Melody, a powerful song to hold within your shell. How any normal pilgrim was meant to learn this song, I do not know. Maybe they were never intended to.





Within the Green Prince's remembrance of his Lost Verdania, multiple objects shine when prompted to, revealing their secret fragments of memory. I'm not sure if there's an in-game explanation for this, but it's cool nevertheless.





Sprintmaster Swift's companion seems to match the speedster's song. But before the races start, this little guy instead hums along to the rhythm in his own way.





Creatures afflicted or connected to the void don't respond to the Needolin. Yet the Gargant Gloom echoes some form of silent response. Could it be its size? Or maybe the black liquid in its belly?





The sea of black at the bottom of the Abyss seems calm... until a life form approaches, then the Void Tendrils reveal themselves. And when the Needolin comes out, they thrash with even more chaotic reverberations.




Last but certainly not least, the Needolin set off the Soul Snare to trap Grand Mother Silk. If this was the climatic end of the story, I would have been happy! Of course, we had much to see and do in Pharloom afterwards.

Whew, all done. T'was a long road to tread, but a joyous one. Thanks for reading!

While I would consider this a finished project, I may update the songs, the lore bits, and/or the photos in the future. Any suggestions on what should be updated? Leave a comment! Any thoughts, critiques, praises, or ponderings are welcomed. And if you found any enjoyment in this project, please rate and favorite the guide! I do appreciate it.

That's it for now. Take care fellow hunters!