Dragon’s Breath
Dragon’s Breath Lore: Burn the world. Burn it all. “You buying?” asks the bored clerk. Ariadne isn’t listening. She scowls at the display case. “Look at this thing, Enoch. How is it a dragon? It’s barely a shark. Crux should have called it Shark’s Breath.” “Shark’s Breath doesn’t sound dangerous. Unless you’re underwater, I guess,” Enoch says. At his side, Marcus studies the case. “Exactly! While my dragon has been legally recognized as cool.” Ariadne points to the gleaming crimson dragon painted along the side of her Sparrow. “No contest.” “Could be a contest,” Marcus says. He looks to the clerk. “Do you do samples?” Ariadne’s eyes light up. Twenty minutes later at the City’s outskirts with waivers signed, Enoch hoists the rocket launcher onto his shoulder. Its shark’s face grins at Ariadne. “You can do it,” says Didi. She and Ghost hover above the group, ready to record. “Ari, you get five seconds head start so you’d better gun it,” Marcus says. “And… Go!” Ariadne’s Sparrow screeches away as Enoch counts, fires, and lowers the rocket launcher. “You really think this is a race Gris can win?” Enoch asks. The rocket arcs towards her, bright in the sky. Marcus leans in and claps his shoulder. “Not a chan—” A ball of flame rises from the landscape as the rocket impacts the Sparrow. “Now that’s cinema,” Didi says, satisfied. 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./span>
Buried Bloodline
Buried Bloodline Lore: Shallow graves give way to old vendettas and hungry claims. Fikrul stands on the bridge of a seized Ketch. Ravagers keep watch over a handful of Eliksni that remain to pilot the vessel. Five heavily armored Scorn kneel before Fikrul, their heads bowed in reverence. Fikrul steps forward. “Dark rumors whisper from the Dreaming City. The Reef hunts us. The Darkness claims us. And our father is not returning. But even without Uldren Sov, new Scorn still rise. Old Scorn still live, unseen.” Fikrul waits for silence before looking beyond the five armored Scorn knights to the greater horde that gathers. He turns and points his staff at the pilots. “These Eliksni, they speak of Scorn risen on Earth, where dead things will hunt them, or Darkness claims them.” “We serve only Scorn!” Fikrul raises his staff above his head. “We will bring them home. Open their minds, as I have for you. As I will for all Scorn!” The horde gnashes and cheers. “Rathil, Malaris, Vrysiks, Nymeks, Sirloks. Ascend!” commands Fikrul over the commotion. The five armored Scorn stand. “You, loyal-sworn, will be my knights.” Scorn move from behind them to present the knights with staves made in the image of their leader’s. “Go to Earth. Bring brothers and sisters home, before Darkness claims them.” The knights bow. “Rathil.” Fikrul places a hand on the center knight. “You, will lead.” ***** Rathil enters the quarters of the Ketch’s dead captain to see Fikrul gazing at walls of bound tomes filled with Eliksni scrawl. Rathil could not understand the contents of these books, but his father had learned much from them. With time, he would learn to unravel their secrets as well. “Father… You called me? We prepare to leave.” Fikrul turns, a polished steel case in his lower arms. “I have one last gift for you.” Fikrul opens the case to display a clean-looking weapon—a sleek bolt-caster. Rathil could see its original Eliksni design, twisted, broken, and refashioned into something stronger, as he was. “Claimed from Kings by Wolves… Modified. Scorn, now. Like us.” “I am honored,” Rathil says, gently lifting the weapon from its case and bowing. Fikrul looks upon his son with pride. “I send you to claim Kings, as we once did as Wolves. Carry our history with you. Claim it. Bring it home.” Discover More Weapons Here
Outbreak Perfected
Outbreak Perfected Lore: ~directive = KILL while enemies = PRESENT: execute(directive)~ The Captain stands with his primary hands braced on a command table. He stares down at a static holoprojection as though it might reveal some new secret. Nearby, the Hunter combs through scout reports. The Warlock taps rapidly at a datapad, running simulation after simulation. No one speaks. There is a deafening boom. The holoprojection flickers; the whole Skiff tilts seventy degrees off-kilter. The Captain holds tight to the table, reaching out with a secondary arm to snatch the Hunter as he goes toppling by. The Warlock is not a concern; she has Blinked her way to a secure handhold. The Captain calls to his crew, speaking Eliksni too fast for the Hunter or the Warlock to follow. Someone calls back. The Skiff tilts nauseously, then stabilizes. “Eramis?” the Warlock asks. The Captain nods. Letting go of the Hunter, he disappears through an access hatch to consult with his crew. “I don’t like this,” the Hunter says lowly. “We should be there with him.” The Warlock chews on her lower lip. She doesn’t like it either, but they’ve argued endlessly with their Captain and gained no ground. “We have to trust him,” she says finally. “This is what he wants.” “Trust him to die?” the Hunter hisses. “Let’s break down how stupid this is: not only does he wants to infiltrate the Tower without us, he’s planning to wear Devils colors to interrupt a Devils heist to reclaim SIVA. And instead of leaning on us, his good Guardian friends, he’s banking on some stranger—” “Not a stranger,” the Warlock cuts in. “Fine! Not a stranger, but definitely not a friend!” The Hunter grits his teeth. “We should do it. We need to do it. Let’s just go; let’s go now. We can cut them off.” He conjures his Ghost with a twist of his wrist, readying for transmat. “We have to trust him,” the Warlock repeats, reaching out to grasp the Hunter’s forearm. “I think he’s right when he says it doesn’t mean anything if we do it. Guardians do extraordinary things all the time. And he needs more allies…” The Captain reenters their little ad-hoc war room. They draw up guiltily. The Hunter hides his Ghost. “All well?” he asks, looking between them. “Eia, Mithrax,” the Warlock murmurs. “We’re all good.” The Hunter says nothing. “We walk this hardship-path with joyful hearts. Be brave.” Discover More Weapons Here
Wish-Keeper
Wish-Keeper Lore: “Live.” —Taranis Rivensmate You will not hear our bones sing in dreams. You will not shelter under our wings. You will have to remember for yourselves. Your sire was Riven of a Thousand Voices, she who contracted with royalty, she who built the Dreaming City and brought it to its knees. Your dam was Taranis, he who made the Black Garden his own, he who strangled his life for yours, he whose wish tricked even Riven. Remember! I will not bargain with my children. Our lives are our gifts to you: glut yourselves on them. Learn who you are. The clutch of your sire. The strongest, the wiliest, the sharpest-clawed arbiters of reality. The clutch of your fool of a dam. Never Taken by another’s will. Never ruled by hunger without choice. Sing your own songs. Find those whom your wings would stretch out to shelter. O whims of my blighted heart, born of our eyes and teeth and will to power, live as yourselves. Never less than that. 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.
Ex Diris
Ex Diris Lore: “I have heralded disaster so often that my mere presence is an omen. So be it.” —Eris Morn The cards gleamed in Eris Morn’s hands, each one a taut web of meanings pinned down in place so that its signifier, in all its instability, could be held and comprehended. She lay the first card on the table. Blades. Of course, she thought. The Hive’s childish logic. But, like all childish things, it was persistent. They were all ensnared in its thesis. For now, it was their purpose as much as the Hive’s. The second card over the first. The Adherent. Xivu Arath. The greatest and most committed proponent of her brother’s grand theory. Xivu Arath guarded the Blades card with her life. It held her with all the great lies she told herself. Eris placed the third card below the others. The Sisters. Aurash, Sathona, Xi Ro. The Hive Gods’ first names and first selves. But the fourth card made her hesitate. She looked at it, and it stared back. The Harbinger. It could be no one but herself. She placed it to the left of the others. Perhaps now she counted among those sisters. Savathûn, Xivu Arath, and Eris Morn. A game between siblings. A love that sharpens. Another card to the right of the first two. The Lie. Eris furrowed her brow. The cards had manifested through Hive magic; perhaps it denoted how the Hive see the Guardians. Liars denying the all-edged truth of the sword logic. Or was it the lie of that logic itself? The lie of the Deep, the lie of worms? Three cards above the rest, one beside the other. Liminal. Ascension. Lacuna. All the aspects of a Guardian’s Light. She had not held it for centuries. The Hive sisters below beckoned more loudly than the Light did. Eris made a column of the remaining cards. At the bottom, The Witch. Above that, The Truth. Then Lament. Then The Wish. Who was the Witch? Savathûn, or herself? The thought gave her pause. From whom did the Truth flow? There were too many truths for any one to triumph. But Lament, she knew: the slaying of Oryx, Xivu Arath’s greatest loss. Would the truth lead to another Hive sibling’s death? Eris looked to the last card. The Wish puzzled her. A wish is desire, the greatest power in this universe. Eris had wished before. It had led her here. Would she be asked to wish again? What else would her desire wrought? Turning away, Eris left the cards on the table and took her questions with her. Discover More Weapons Here
Dead Messenger
Dead Messenger Lore: A gift for the empress who has everything. Caiatl and Zavala stood side by side, watching a live feed of the Guardian’s assault on the Psion transmission facility, as broadcast by Amanda Holliday’s circling aircraft. The Guardian ducked behind cover and pulled out a sleek grenade launcher, recovered during their last assault of the base. They fired into a pack of onrushing war beasts, sending shrapnel hurling through the air. The Cabal empress emitted a low rumble as she admired the weapon. Zavala looked up at the enormous ruler with raised eyebrows. Her gaze was fixed on the firefight, her eyes twinkling with violent ardor. The Vanguard commander shut off the open comms and cleared his throat. “Would you like me to send you one of those grenade launchers? I can have Banshee create a Cabal-sized version for you.” Caiatl looked down at the Awoken leader, suddenly aware that her avarice had been on display. She lowered her tusks, which the commander interpreted as equivalent to a blush. “That would be most welcome, Commander,” Caiatl replied. “I’d like to fire it into Xivu Arath’s belly and bathe in her soulfire.” Zavala turned back to the screen. “You have a… passionate spirit, Empress.” He did not see it, but beneath her mask, Empress Caiatl smiled. It was terrifying. 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
Tessellation
Tessellation Lore: The monolith is hewn; the monument is built. Once, nothing became something. There was a game of possibilities. Patterns emerged that could—would—flourish or fail, wax or wane. And in the gaps between, there was nothing. But nothing is an absence, defined by all the things that might one day be and yet never find fruition. It is an entropy of existence. For nothing to become something is as simple as a flipped bit, a chance mutation, a fallen leaf. Once it has become, it has always become, for castles are less fragile when built by something than nothing. Something grows; and grown, it is seen. Once, something became something else. There were a people of potential and promise, of galvanizing growth. By their tools, their grand intention, the happenstance alignment of infinite years and atoms were as sculptor’s clay, that which becomes the finest of statuary. Purpose carved from meaninglessness; the chance generation of the universe crafted into beauty, intentionality. That which served no reason ceased, randomness elided by the sculptor’s art. Something changes; and changed, it continues. Once, something will become nothing. There are beings who plant their intention and say, so far, no further. The bulwarks and the bastions, the stubborn flower that will defy even stone. In these hands, possibility is a single-minded tool. Resolution, pursuit, obliteration. What potential lies in empty space? All that dies is only ever transformed, abscised and swallowed by wilderness, returned to infinite metamorphosis. To excise from that rich loam of transformation requires no less than perfect certainty. Here is the secret: a ploughshare and a sword have never truly differed. Discover More Weapons Here – ext Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Donec ornare placerat interdum. Integer sollicitudin gravida sem quis tempor.
Dead Man’s Tale
Dead Man’s Tale Lore: “Long, short, they all end the same way.” —Katabasis Gaelin-4’s war beast leads us through balmy Venusian jungle. Our rifles low, our Ghosts high in the canopy like sentry drones. “My vehicle is old. Needs maintenance. Been running too long without cutting the engine,” I say. Gaelin sends me a sideways look. “That shipwright still around? She used to make cider in the autumn. I swear, she kept us like a pack of strays.” I sigh. “No, I mean this thing.” I run my hand over my body. “Besides, you know I can’t go back there.” I straighten the leather wrap around my Tex-foundry rifle. “You know I literally tune myself, right?” asks the Exo Hunter. “Why? You’re immortal.” “And you’re not?” “I know, but I’m… slower. I feel slower.” “Uh huh.” “Just not like what I used to feel like. Not… spry. Not up here either.” I tap my helmet. “Tragedy. I feel for you. Have Gilgamesh tune you then.” I chuckle. “Yeah… he’d love that.” “You two having issues again?” I shake my head in a stiff, narrow lie. “You think we come back the same every time?” “I do. Straight from the manufacturer ,” Gaelin-4 says. “Sometimes I get the feeling… something’s different.” Gaelin stops and squints at me. I dip my head and let my hood fall forward. “Nothing I can put my finger on, just little things. Adjustments.” “You think he’s changing you?” Gaelin’s voice sounds more serious than surprised. I wait too long to answer. It’s not because I don’t know my answer, but because I want to feel like I still doubt it. I raise my head. Gaelin meets my eyes and looks up to the canopy. He leans his shoulder into me and drops his voice to a whisper. “My Clip’s a good one, but you need to realize Ghosts don’t know anything. Nobody does. They’re just like us. They get curious. They question. If you think something’s coming unwound, you need to sit down and talk it out.” “Wait… did Clip change yo—” “Please,” Gaelin scoffs. “You’re paranoid.” He turns to keep walking and calls back, “Life changes you. Same with them. I’m the only one that stays the same.” Gaelin raises a fist and we stop. His war beast sniffs the air and turns us east. We continue walking. “What’d you name the beast?” “Castus.” “You’ve been reading too many of the Spider’s books .” “Some of ’em are good.” I laugh. “Aren’t you the man that said anything you got tying you down can be made into a noose?” “Yeah, some time ago.” “You’ve been taking a lot of jobs with him ? Those Fallen?” “You’re one to talk, Emperor’s lackey . Some of those Eliksni aren’t so bad.” Discover More Weapons Here
Necrochasm
Necrochasm Lore: Is your Light bright enough to stand in full gaze of the Hive’s abyss? Arise for Crota, Son of Oryx, the Hope-Eater! He who has seized the Sky lair above Ceres, which peers into other planes, now vassal to the might of the Worldbreaker! Within these keyholes our brood communes with unheard voices. They who whisper that the curse of our Thralls is a blessing granted by the Deep. Now, in honor of the God-Knight, we fashion these gluttonous whispers into death. His Hellmouth becomes home to the profane: the corpse of the Sky, reborn in the abyss. — Enkaar, the Anointed 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.
Centrifuse
Centrifuse Lore: Breakthrough, or broken? Excerpts from a pre-Collapse report, logged by Dr. Khatun-Rowe, a researcher in the Engineering Division of the New Pacific Arcology, Titan: Since Dr. Pell’s breakthrough on methods of magnetic containment last year, we’ve successfully stabilized multiple ionic reactors. They have allowed us to expand our division’s plasma technology work beyond research into development… [Because] the Arcology’s turbines have been generating more energy than the facility consumes, leadership has decided, over the objections of D.M. Korosec, to focus initial trials on force-multiplying technology. Ostensibly, leadership’s hope is to supplement invasive and costly gene-splicing technology with power suits that could greatly extend our divers’ uptime… While the power suit initiative seems benign, [Arcology leadership’s] insistence on controlled ionic emissions research is clearly geared toward weapon development. Though I will, of course, give my full focus to our new directive, I pray these weapons remain prototypes, discarded and forgotten in the back room of history… 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 imperd
