The Steady Hand
The Steady Hand Lore: Forged in honor of Perun, and a just and unwavering resolve. Discover More Weapons Here – ext Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Donec ornare placerat interdum. Integer sollicitudin gravida sem quis tempor. In pharetra placerat molestie. Nam sodales finibus est sed gravida. Sed tristique semper mi, sed finibus ex vulputate molestie. Suspendisse mollis quam ut aliquam sodales. Proin elementum, odio in auctor volutpat, arcu arcu consectetur diam, quis porttitor nibh quam a lacus. Donec efficitur vitae erat at auctor. Suspendisse erat mauris, mollis nec justo ac, fringilla ultrices neque. Pellentesque vel facilisis ipsum. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Suspendisse dignissim urna dui, quis posuere magna tincidunt eu. Nam vitae pulvinar dui, a auctor ex. Morbi in aliquet magna. Maecenas luctus dui ac tellus volutpat tempor. Quisque at vehicula lacus, in molestie tellus. Duis consequat odio sit amet posuere pulvinar. Quisque sapien ex, porttitor eget imperdiet eu, varius quis nibh. Praesent id rhoncus dui. Duis nunc ex, accumsan quis fringilla ut, scelerisque eu lectus. Sed tristique non elit sed porttitor. Etiam scelerisque elit mi, et bibendum metus egestas vitae. Proin a purus a ligula eleifend eleifend. Proin nec molestie odio. Proin tincidunt neque congue enim sodales eleifend a et velit. Sed mollis quis dolor ut semper. Phasellus nisi lacus, egestas sed lectus a, finibus lacinia massa. Nulla consectetur nibh quis varius porta. Donec ac dui id ex ultrices lobortis. Pellentesque lacinia erat vel massa ultricies, eget feugiat neque fermentum. Nam vestibulum metus ac est dignissim rutrum. Sed aliquet egestas turpis, ac molestie urna fringilla et. Vivamus ut mauris pretium ante aliquet dapibus. Morbi a pellentesque massa. In nibh leo, tincidunt gravida urna at, suscipit finibus turpis. Duis sed dictum dolor. Etiam tincidunt mauris nec turpis volutpat dictum. Maecenas a varius velit. Aliquam sit amet ex nec nunc viverra sollicitudin non ac nunc. Aliquam in turpis sed justo tempor eleifend at.
Biting Winds
Biting Winds Lore: “The Fallen describe Darkness as a gale. A force of nature, arising suddenly, from seemingly nowhere.” -The Exo Stranger Discover More Weapons Here – ext Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Donec ornare placerat interdum. Integer sollicitudin gravida sem quis tempor. In pharetra placerat molestie. Nam sodales finibus est sed gravida. Sed tristique semper mi, sed finibus ex vulputate molestie. Suspendisse mollis quam ut aliquam sodales. Proin elementum, odio in auctor volutpat, arcu arcu consectetur diam, quis porttitor nibh quam a lacus. Donec efficitur vitae erat at auctor. Suspendisse erat mauris, mollis nec justo ac, fringilla ultrices neque. Pellentesque vel facilisis ipsum. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Suspendisse dignissim urna dui, quis posuere magna tincidunt eu. Nam vitae pulvinar dui, a auctor ex. Morbi in aliquet magna. Maecenas luctus dui ac tellus volutpat tempor. Quisque at vehicula lacus, in molestie tellus. Duis consequat odio sit amet posuere pulvinar. Quisque sapien ex, porttitor eget imperdiet eu, varius quis nibh. Praesent id rhoncus dui. Duis nunc ex, accumsan quis fringilla ut, scelerisque eu lectus. Sed tristique non elit sed porttitor. Etiam scelerisque elit mi, et bibendum metus egestas vitae. Proin a purus a ligula eleifend eleifend. Proin nec molestie odio. Proin tincidunt neque congue enim sodales eleifend a et velit. Sed mollis quis dolor ut semper. Phasellus nisi lacus, egestas sed lectus a, finibus lacinia massa. Nulla consectetur nibh quis varius porta. Donec ac dui id ex ultrices lobortis. Pellentesque lacinia erat vel massa ultricies, eget feugiat neque fermentum.
Traveler’s Chosen
Traveler’s Chosen Lore: “All we have left now is our faith.” I push into my ossific den and he is there. I see him looking over the side, toward his Traveler, head bent. He is speaking softly, but I can hear him. Anyone who was listening could. He waits for a response and I do as well, tense, curious. He stands attentively, this loyal dog of a man. It is no time at all for me, but for him, the hours creep by in silence. I am ready to choke the voice of his Traveler if it answers him, but there is nothing. He tightens his grip on the railing. I feel something shift inside him and a new possibility presents itself. ** Again, I press against the sockets. The net creaks softly with my eagerness. Someone approaches and he turns his back to his Traveler. There is an exchange, obscured by the rubicund thrash. He is given reports. Hope bleeds from him. He gives the messenger a token of his faith. They accept it without understanding its meaning. He watches as they leave. There is a hollow place in his center. It is beautiful. ** I return warily. I do not see him, but I hear him. He speaks to all with a voice thick with grief. I must learn how far I have been set back. I reach to him tentatively. Strength. I push-and feel only sweet, soft rot. I am delirious with pleasure. It gave them no answers; it was a reflex, the spasm of dumb muscle. A song of joy rises within me. Now. Discover More Weapons Here
Witherhoard
Witherhoard Lore: “Like a one-man private security company.” -The Drifter The Drifter slouches against the bulkhead of the Derelict, a pile of Dark Motes scattered across the table in front of him. He fixes his gaze on the massive Titan, the sharpness in his eyes belying his casual posture. “I’m surprised you got the time to come around here, hassling me about these tiny Motes, Joxer. Seems like you got the big deal in orbit around Io. That’s where the Vanguard oughta be.” The Drifter’s hand rests casually on the handle of a thick, breechloaded Grenade Launcher. “And ain’t you Vanguard through and through these days?” Joxer snorts at the irony. “I’m not here to hassle you, Drifter. On the contrary. Consider this a friendly warning.” “Friendly, huh? Is that what we are now?” Drifter’s grip on the Grenade Launcher tightens. “Now you raised my suspicion. You better speak plain, Joxer, or prepare to draw.” The Titan shakes his head in exasperation. “Some people say those Pyramids damn near wiped us out once. Nobody knows for sure. But if they do end up hostile, it’s going to get heavy in a hurry. And you don’t want to be the guy standing in the middle holding a bag of Dark Motes.” “And what the hell business is it of yours where I’m standing?” the Drifter asks as he plants his boots on the deck. He rises to his feet, the Grenade Launcher dangling from his hand. “Unless I’m standing in your way.” Joxer puts his hands up in mock surrender. “You know what? I came here because I’m trying to change. Making amends. After what happed at Gambit Prime… I had to get right. And part of that is giving you some friendly advice to lay low for a while.” He glances down at the Dark Motes. “But if you don’t want to hear reason, that’s on you.” Joxer trundles his way to the back of the ship. As the airlock hisses open, Drifter calls out, “That’s real nice armor, Joxer. Don’t forget where you got it.” Discover More Weapons Here
Cold Denial
Cold Denial Lore: A familiar tool in the face of failure. The Wizard floats horizontally, inches off the ground, restrained by a mesh cocoon that ripples with Arc energy. The restraints crackle and hiss as the Hive lieutenant struggles. The Warlock glances uneasily at her captive. “Guardian is insult. Sword Logic is death to weakness. Death to sick. Keep alive weakness makes weakness alive,” the Wizard says and then rattles off a thick stream of guttural sounds that the Guardian’s Ghost can’t translate. The Warlock assumes they’re curses. “You’re lucky we disagree. We value more than just brute strength. We value all the things that make strength worth having. Like ingenuity. Or kindness. Or friendship,” the Guardian says. She scans the horizon uneasily. It’s been over thirty minutes since her fireteam last checked in. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” The Wizard clacks his teeth in disdain. “Kill makes all nothing. Dead kindness nothing. Dead friend nothing. Kill is highest.” “Well then, I should probably shoot you right now,” the Guardian snaps at her prisoner. Her fireteam’s prolonged absence is making her edgy. “Is that what you want?” “Yes. You kill now. Is Logic.” The Wizard shows no fear. The Guardian shakes her head. “You lot are the worst.” Where the hell are they? Discover More Weapons Here – ext Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Donec ornare placerat interdum. Integer sollicitudin gravida sem quis tempor. In pharetra placerat molestie. Nam sodales finibus est sed gravida. Sed tristique semper mi, sed finibus ex vulputate molestie. Suspendisse mollis quam ut aliquam sodales.
Whispering Slab
Whispering Slab Lore: It sings of sorrows that have not yet come to pass. Eris Morn walks with slow, silent steps toward a haggard Drifter shoving small bags into larger ones. Dim and exhausted Motes lie scattered throughout the Derelict, slowly evaporating. She retrieves a Mote from the floor and shines her burning light over the cracked surface. The light struggles to leave the cracks. She lets the disintegrating Mote drop and shatter into dust against the floor grates. It chimes like resonate glass. The Drifter whirls around to face the noise, almost losing his footing. He lets his hand slide off his holstered Trust as recognition washes over him. “Ain’t anybody ever tell you not to skulk? It’s rude.” “Noted. Are you vacating?” “Road trip. How’d you get in here anyway?” “The airlock was open.” “Uh huh.” “If I said I were here to run in your rat race, would it change your tune?” “Uh huh…” Eris drops her shoulders and approaches the Drifter. “I want your help.” “Uh huh.” His brow furrows with suspicion. “Why? Didn’t you save the universe yet?” Drifter turns back to shoving bags in bags. “It seems to be continually in peril. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ve helped.” Eris hands him a bag. “I need your knowledge.” “You? No.” “I have had some troubling experiences as of late.” “Yeah, it’s called life.” “I need to know,” she says and hesitates, half-hearted restraint preceding sacrilege. “Tell me how to interpret the Darkness.” “What am I, some crusty woo-woo sage? Beat it, kid. I’m packing.” “Do not ignore me,” Eris says. Her voice is calm and piercing. “We’ve both seen beneath the surface.” Drifter drops the pack in his hand and picks a jade coin off his workbench. “Asher is entrenched in his thinking,” she says and gently places a palm down on the workbench beside them. “Ikora… she tries. She hears, but she doesn’t understand. No one is listening.” Drifter pockets the coin and turns to face her. He stares deep. “Experience. Hell of a thing.” He looks down the gangway of the Derelict and through the gate that would take him to his Haul. “Favors ain’t free. I do this, you owe me.” Eris nods. Drifter swipes the workbench clean and pulls out a retractable seat for himself. “How long you got?” The two sit. They speak. They listen. Linkages forged in Light and Dark of traded secrets as the Derelict hangs in orbit around the Earth. Pacts are made. Soon, there is only the silence of knowing left between them. “Next time you fly over the Moon, dust your boots. Tracking that crap all over my floors.” Eris shakes her head and moves toward the airlock. Drifter yells after her, “AND CALL NEXT TIME! I could’ve blown those fancy eyes straight out of your face.” “I’ll try to be more mindful of your many eccentricities in the future.” Discover More Weapons Here
The Forward Path
The Forward Path Lore: Forged in honor of Weyloran, and roads yet traveled. Discover More Weapons Here – ext Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Donec ornare placerat interdum. Integer sollicitudin gravida sem quis tempor. In pharetra placerat molestie. Nam sodales finibus est sed gravida. Sed tristique semper mi, sed finibus ex vulputate molestie. Suspendisse mollis quam ut aliquam sodales. Proin elementum, odio in auctor volutpat, arcu arcu consectetur diam, quis porttitor nibh quam a lacus. Donec efficitur vitae erat at auctor. Suspendisse erat mauris, mollis nec justo ac, fringilla ultrices neque. Pellentesque vel facilisis ipsum. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Suspendisse dignissim urna dui, quis posuere magna tincidunt eu. Nam vitae pulvinar dui, a auctor ex. Morbi in aliquet magna. Maecenas luctus dui ac tellus volutpat tempor. Quisque at vehicula lacus, in molestie tellus. Duis consequat odio sit amet posuere pulvinar. Quisque sapien ex, porttitor eget imperdiet eu, varius quis nibh. Praesent id rhoncus dui. Duis nunc ex, accumsan quis fringilla ut, scelerisque eu lectus. Sed tristique non elit sed porttitor. Etiam scelerisque elit mi, et bibendum metus egestas vitae. Proin a purus a ligula eleifend eleifend. Proin nec molestie odio. Proin tincidunt neque congue enim sodales eleifend a et velit. Sed mollis quis dolor ut semper. Phasellus nisi lacus, egestas sed lectus a, finibus lacinia massa. Nulla consectetur nibh quis varius porta. Donec ac dui id ex ultrices lobortis. Pellentesque lacinia erat vel massa ultricies, eget feugiat neque fermentum. Nam vestibulum metus ac est dignissim rutrum. Sed aliquet egestas turpis, ac molestie urna fringilla et. Vivamus ut mauris pretium ante aliquet dapibus. Morbi a pellentesque massa. In nibh leo, tincidunt gravida urna at, suscipit finibus turpis. Duis sed dictum dolor. Etiam tincidunt mauris nec turpis volutpat dictum. Maecenas a varius velit. Aliquam sit amet ex nec nunc viverra sollicitudin non ac nunc. Aliquam in turpis sed justo tempor eleifend at.
False Promises
False Promises Lore: Gripped in the hands of the desperate many. The Spider eyes the Drifter, boots to bandana. “Mm. My favorite…” Spider trails off with a drag of ether to select a title befitting the Drifter, “…nothing.” “You think this’ll take?” The Drifter says and nods skyward, kicking an empty ether canister off the side of their floating mote of Reef. Red streaks burn in the star-sea sky beyond the vast cloud of asteroids and dust, drawing the shape of a new constellation as the Warmind launches fresh guns. “An ‘almighty’ effort. Splendid.” Spider steps off a transit craft, alone. “We could have met in… a more protected place.” “You don’t like being seen with me?” “The Spider is a friend to all, but not all my friends are friends,” Spider says and focuses his gaze on the Drifter. “You should have come to me.” “You keep too many bodies around. Bodies can stab you in the back.” “Running shows your back,” the Spider’s voice shudders, “to everyone.” Drifter pauses a moment and looks around at the desolate scape. Small boulders hang in space. They slowly drift towards each other, make contact, and bounce away on random trajectories. Some stick; incorporated via destructive consummation. He scowls and turns back to Spider. “Stretch your legs. No one here for miles.” The Spider unfurls himself, slurping a heavy vacuumous drag from his rebreather. Fully upright, he dwarfs the Drifter in shadow. “Isolation… is not the same as protection, friend.” “Friendship gonna save us from what’s coming?” Drifter asks. He places his fingertips together, the space between his hands resembling a triangle. “The odds aren’t in your favor, but…” a guttural laugh ripples from Spider’s belly and sends vibration through the loose-packed dirt underfoot, “I’m the wrong one to come to for comfort.” “I get it. You tried running last time. Didn’t work. Now you’re trying to hide. Let me give you some advice: that don’t work either.” “Hiding? the Spider asks and waits. “The board changes. The board clears. I don’t play, I just price the pieces.” “Cold-blooded. World’s ending and you want a run at it for all it’s got.” “‘End’ is a matter of perspective. Devastation is oftentimes,” he says with a breath, “profitable.” “What if nothing’s left? Skin and bones?” “There’s always ivory among the bones.” “Bull.” Spider slings a single breathy, “Ha.” “You remind me of my compatriots.” Spider wraps his fingers around a small clod of earth drifting by. “They looked at the Whirlwind, just like you. Scared.” He closes his hand, crushing the clod into a dense mound. It fractures into several pieces that waft away as Spider releases his grip. “But here we are, living on anyway.” “Yeah. Fallen.” “Fallen. I hold favor among Witches, and Kells, and whispering agents… of every shade and shape. My web is vast, and I have proven useful. Let the kings bloody each other. I’ll direct the runoff.” “You talking about Guardians? Hate to break it to you, but they’re a cheap date.” “Cheap is malleable. Cheap becomes… cheaper in desperation.” “Yeah.” The Drifter pulls a small and ornate box of Awoken design from his rucksack. “Who you lookin’ for with this anyway?” The Spider steps toward Drifter, smothering his personal space. “Options, my dear rogue; tangled in the web.” He takes the box with his dominant arms and plops two stuffed sacks of Ghost shells into the Drifter’s hands with his others. “Went through hell to get that little box. Don’t come with no throne,” Drifter says, holding his voice steady, jaw tense to stay the trembling. The Spider chitters as a shiver runs through him. “No. Just a looking-glass window. Good business, friend.” The hulking Fallen Don turns to leave. “Remember… remain useful.” “When you find ’em, you sure the past won’t come knocking?” “No one minds the Spider.” “Lucky.” Discover More Weapons Here
Escape Velocity
Escape Velocity Lore: “The first step toward truth is to let go of all that we know and hold dear.” -Arach Jalaal Discover More Weapons Here – ext Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Donec ornare placerat interdum. Integer sollicitudin gravida sem quis tempor. In pharetra placerat molestie. Nam sodales finibus est sed gravida. Sed tristique semper mi, sed finibus ex vulputate molestie. Suspendisse mollis quam ut aliquam sodales. Proin elementum, odio in auctor volutpat, arcu arcu consectetur diam, quis porttitor nibh quam a lacus. Donec efficitur vitae erat at auctor. Suspendisse erat mauris, mollis nec justo ac, fringilla ultrices neque. Pellentesque vel facilisis ipsum. Interdum et malesuada fames ac ante ipsum primis in faucibus. Suspendisse dignissim urna dui, quis posuere magna tincidunt eu. Nam vitae pulvinar dui, a auctor ex. Morbi in aliquet magna. Maecenas luctus dui ac tellus volutpat tempor. Quisque at vehicula lacus, in molestie tellus. Duis consequat odio sit amet posuere pulvinar. Quisque sapien ex, porttitor eget imperdiet eu, varius quis nibh. Praesent id rhoncus dui. Duis nunc ex, accumsan quis fringilla ut, scelerisque eu lectus. Sed tristique non elit sed porttitor. Etiam scelerisque elit mi, et bibendum metus egestas vitae. Proin a purus a ligula eleifend eleifend. Proin nec molestie odio. Proin tincidunt neque congue enim sodales eleifend a et velit. Sed mollis quis dolor ut semper. Phasellus nisi lacus, egestas sed lectus a, finibus lacinia massa. Nulla consectetur nibh quis varius porta. Donec ac dui id ex ultrices lobortis. Pellentesque lacinia erat vel massa ultricies, eget feugiat neque fermentum. Nam vestibulum metus ac est dignissim rutrum. Sed aliquet egestas turpis, ac molestie urna fringilla et. Vivamus ut mauris pretium ante aliquet dapibus. Morbi a pellentesque massa. In nibh leo, tincidunt gravida urna at, suscipit finibus turpis. Duis sed dictum dolor. Etiam tincidunt mauris nec turpis volutpat dictum. Maecenas a varius velit. Aliquam sit amet ex nec nunc viverra sollicitudin non ac nunc. Aliquam in turpis sed justo tempor eleifend at.
Eye of Sol
Eye of Sol Lore: “The sun took my sight; thus, the sun became my eyes.” -Parables of the Allspring It was Crimiq-5’s honor to hold the flank. Sun at his back, there was no better position to provide overwatch in the Burning Shrine. He was the watchtower, and none would escape his vigil. Curt radio chatter signaled his fireteam’s advance as he called out enemy maneuvers. Crimiq-5 watched tense bursts of movement and exchanges of fire as his team jockeyed for position. Sola had ripped through their previous opponents with off-putting ferocity, and Crimiq was ready for this to be their last match of the day. He looked over her through his scope. Sola’s silhouette marinated in an eerie shimmer that distorted the air as she moved. He stilled his body and sent a shot over her head to force an opponent back into cover. “Aiming a little close.” Sola sent a glare over her shoulder into the sun. Crimiq-5 moved his scope off her. “Duck.” His earpiece crackled. Katake’s voice drilled into his head. “THUNDERCRASH… Help!” Katake’s voice screeched out of existence as the lightning overtook him and Saint bellowed. Crimiq saw a bright flash burst from the hallway leading toward C-point. “Be advised, I’m leaving the perch. Moving to trade for Katake.” He slid into position and snapped his trusted long rifle down lane. His sights found an unlucky Titan, lightning still crackling from their armor. “Fate Cries Foul for you, brother.” The shot hit squarely, and the Titan dropped. “Sorry I couldn’t save you Katake. Next time.” Discover More Weapons Here
