What I have to say is more important than your idle chatter. They came before you, and they will continue, long after your sorry kind has withered and died like shrunken grapes on a poorly rooted vine. Get down on your knees before me and prostrate yourselves as the unworthy, diseased specimens you are!

However lowly your small-minded race may be, however much you are despised among all other races for your arrogance and laziness, it would seem that She has a purpose for you.

They came for a reason, which is beyond your capabilities to fathom. Your so-called scientists are too stupid to comprehend even the outlines of the universe. If what is so clearly evident surpasses your greatest thinkers, what hope have you of understanding its mysteries? But the reason exists, even though it is infinitely beyond your ken, and its relevance to you is this: your survival depends upon it. So you would do well to take heed.

How fortunate that the purpose She designed for you is simple enough for you brainless simpletons to comprehend. As stable hands and shepherds, your place is to scrub the floors and shovel the manure, but also to protect and nurture Them in any way that your sorry forms can muster.

To her, forever is but a blink of an eye. She is a patient mistress, but one day even Her hours will become short. At the time of the last great opening, They came in strength to protect Her, but despite Their great numbers They only just succeeded. Although They near perfection, Their tiniest flaws were keenly exploited. Some survived, but many others perished.

Another great opening is soon to be upon us, and She will require all Her resourcefulness to counter it. In Her wisdom She believes certain of you possess qualities that might counter the weaknesses in Their defences. A belief, this is, and no more; but like every craftsman, She is forced to work with the tools She has to hand.

A handful of your race will be chosen, but take scant comfort from this tiding. Among your number rank some whose inadequacies are not so great as to render them completely useless. Every instrument requires a player, but do not be fooled into pride: the player is neither the music, nor its creator.