Conan Exiles Wiki

Elder Vaults are a type of dungeon. There are 14 vaults in total, two for each Elder Race.[1]


Scattered throughout the landscape you can see ominous entrances to vaults. The remnants of the elder races dwell in these deep dungeons. Enter the vaults to explore dark tunnels, underwater caverns and ancient halls.

Solve puzzles to progress and uncover hidden treasures, all while fighting your way through fiends, demonic spiders, goblins, harpies and many more of the eldritch creatures that created these forgotten monuments.

Each vault was a receptacle for the power of an elder race. The vaults contain many treasures, such as items, recipes and knowledge of the cataclysm which befell the island in ages past, but the most valuable may be a new resource and a sigil of power.

~ Blog[2]

List of Elder Vaults[]

Map of all Elder Vaults

Bat Demons[]

Demon Spiders[]









Elder Vaults Cinematic Dialogues (Spoilers Ahead)

The War was lost. Our slaves rose up, hearts hardened in the forge of servitude, and they slaughtered us. Our gods were silent. So we fled.
We did not know whether we would ever find safety again. The relentless savagery of humans is something we had observed over long years as their masters.
They will not stop searching for us.

For the longest time, we thought we were alone, and we despaired. The lifecycle of our kind is long, but conditions on the island were such that none of our offspring could be brought to term. We resigned ourselves to a long, slow death.
But then Others of our kind made contact from the mainland. They had made a pact for safety and secrecy--hidden beneath a volcano in the lands of the Giant-kings. They had birthed a crèche of young.
We will go to them. We will ensure the survival of our species.

We took it, from the blackest room at the top of the tower--and offering to buy us passage and prestige. Some of us were left behind to allay suspicions.
The consequences would be dire--but the survival of our species was paramount.

There was a night when our sacrifices stopped working. When the gods stopped answering our prayers. The tower was silent--the summoning sorceries went unanswered.
A council was called, but not all of the Elder Races were there. The treacherous Serpent Men were gone, taking our protection and our succor with them. Our fragile alliance was broken.

But we had all of us forgotten our ancient foe. While we remained exiled on our island, protected by our maelstrom of magic, the humans had been growing and spreading on the mainland.

With our protection gone, the humans found us again. And despite the passage of years, their hatred burned bright. A fleet arrived at the island and the humans began to take their long-delayed vengeance.

It was a war such as we had not experienced in centuries. Wolfman against harpy against demon. We had lived in fear and isolation for so long--our pent up rage burst forth in a flood.

We were not prepared. Our warring with each other had left us weakened--and the humans were full of fresh fury and anger. They drove us back across the island--and we abandoned our foolish civil war and reunited against the greater threat.
In desperation, we sought to save ourselves.

In our desperation, we sought to replace that which had been stolen. We made contact with the entities of Yuggoth and under their guidance, we sought to recreate the angles of the original.
It took almost all our power and strength, but at last it was done and the room at the top of the tower was empty no more.

Our gambit worked. The completed tower was all that the gods had promised. A shroud could be cast over the island to protect and defend. A conduit to provide us with the victuals to which we had grown accustomed.
We were safe and we were sated.

It is not in our nature to cooperate, but extinction awakens new instincts. The Mighty Messenger brought us the words of our gods. A path to regroup and regrow. To hide us from the vengeance of mankind.
A container for our starry wisdom.

As the threat of extinction faded, so too did our cooperation. The tower worked, and we each had access to its bounty. As centuries passed, we reverted to old ways and habits. Each of us made a home on the island.
Our winged allies claimed the high places. Our lupine brothers found solace in the rolling hills. Our demonic friends stayed close to the tower. And the serpent-men?
Who knows which dark crevice they slithered into?

The entities of the Outer Dark had deceived us. Our recreation had a fatal flaw. The maelstrom it conjured was unstable, tearing the stones and trees of the island, greeting gaping holes in our reality.
The Things that emerged did not care for our war or our survival. There was just darkness and a nameless hunger.

Even as the humans were destroyed, we sought a final refuge. We used our sorcerous knowledge to construct great vaults-places of refuge where we could escape the storm.
We knew then that we were building our tombs. That our children would never see the light of day, but what choice did we have?

Let this serve as a last record and archive for the Elder races that once ruled his world. Treachery and darkness were our last supper. Blood and tears our wine. We are the last.
We are exiles from the world itself.