Edge of Intent
Edge of Intent Lore: An echo of an ancient weapon, forged from a memory of cunning. The Witch, Insidious, was killed upon the rock cliff as a wretched sacrifice. With life drawn from the Sky, she was reborn: the Witch, Radiant. The mangled creature, a Ghost, that bestowed the Sky’s life, spoke to her, to restore her unmarked mind. It said: You are a god of the chosen krill, the Hive. You are the mother of cunning and lies. You are the first of your kind gifted with Light, which is a paracausal force of the Sky. The Queen of Lies listened quietly to these reminders. Even in her rebirth, with a mind emptied of memory, her cunning shone brightly, and she stitched together her new truth. She asked her new companion where she must go next, and it was then that her most trusted witch arrived to guide her to her Lure. —An excerpt from “The Books of Rememoration, A Story Sewn into Flesh with Sinew and Malice, A Record of the Scheme-Mother’s Resurrection and Return” 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.
Grand Overture
Grand Overture Lore: It’s not over until the vast red artificial intelligence sings. “So. You’re the new guy.” Ana Bray cracks a half smile. “Can’t be worse than the last Psions that Red and I dealt with.” She impatiently taps her heel on her workshop bench as the Psion hurriedly checks linkages and nodes on the neural coupling device around her head. Words and images skip across Ana’s mind like stones. “Remain calm. Even though you are defenseless, I do not possess a starship.” A sound resembling laughter follows. “Funny.” Ana chuckles impatiently. “Okay! I’ve been setting this up for months. Are you done with the safety checks?” Jinju flies by Ana and runs a scan over the engram. “Be nice.” A digital timepiece drains toward zero while the Psion inundates her mind with questions. “My Light, Splicer tech, brain tubes. Yeah, I got it,” Ana says. “Plug my brain into Red already and let’s do this.” Her voice quickens with excitement. The Psion finishes linking cables to a Splicer-tech receptacle housing Rasputin’s engram and gives Ana an awkward thumb pointing up. The Psion forms an interlocking image in her mind: a tangle of wires. Slowly, her perspective sifts through them and stops at a radiant center. She hears the words, ‘Forgotten vestige, made remembered.’ “That’s the plan, Pstan!” Ana exclaims. “Drop me in; I can already hear the Tchaikovsky.” She stares down the ticking timer: 3… 2… 1… Ana blinks. She stands in a vast thicket of thorn and rot. A warmth radiates from deep within the thicket. Ana blinks. She presses through bramble as barbs draw blood. Her sense of self wavers. She finds her grip on a searing-hot spike, shifting her senses red like an adrenal rush. Ana blinks. She kneels at the spike and rips it from the ground. A Valkyrie javelin is in her grasp. Ana blinks. The thorned vines around her recoil and wither in the heat. She feels something within the javelin, faint and weak, but alive. Discover More Weapons Here
Edge of Concurrence
Edge of Concurrence Lore: An echo of an ancient weapon, forged from a memory of ambition. With a fresh mind and searching eyes, the Scheme-Mother-Reborn returned to her throne world, which, without the edge of sword logic, had become a shell of itself. Here, she strolled the parapets and fell deep into contemplation. Although she could remember nothing, her mind was as sharp as a tooth. When she emerged from her contemplation, the Whisper-Queen addressed her brood. She said: My children, I know the truth, and out of my love for you, I will share it. Before them, she killed her most trusted witch in a transcendent blaze of Light. This witch became the first of the Lucent, the first resurrected in the image of the queen herself. —An excerpt from “The Books of Rememoration, A Story Sewn into Flesh with Sinew and Malice, A Record of the Scheme-Mother’s Resurrection and Return” 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.
Osteo Striga
Osteo Striga Lore: “Victory is not in the unmaking of an enemy, but in the re-making of an enemy into your blade.” —9th Understanding, 7th Revision of Sorrow Ah, pardon us. It just seems like he’s always hungry. When I first became a mother, I didn’t realize how much time would just be spent feeding him. Do you mind? Thank you. No, he doesn’t look much like me, I know. There are a lot of orphans these days. I heard him crying from… oh my, it seems like half a world away. It was chance, honestly. I never thought of myself as a parent, but caring for another little life… it’s taught me so much. May I? Sorry, I don’t know why I’m sharing so much with you like this. You just seem easy to talk to. And becoming a mom has really given me a lot more insight into the little connections between people. I used to focus so much on my work. I actually lost a few friends over it. Oh! Shh, shh, shh… there we go. That’s right. Growing babies need their calcium. Now I can see what matters. The beauty in small things and quiet moments. In watching others light up when they see him. In the way meeting new people broadens him. I had another child, you know. That was… before. I didn’t keep him safe. It’s for the best. He’s… safe now. Besides, it means I can appreciate this little one so much more. Just the two of us. I love my little Striga. And he’s always… so… hungry. //CASE 620102; SUSPECT IDENT JANA-14; STATUS: AT LARGE //EVIDENCE IDENT #303, AUDIO DEVICE; RECOVERED ADJACENT TO DISMEMBERED BODY, RIBS EXCISED Discover More Weapons Here
Gjallarhorn
Gjallarhorn Lore: “If there is beauty in destruction, why not also in its delivery?” — Feizel Crux Randy finally reaches the Tower. It was a long road from the Cosmodrome, but Shaw Han had given him some good directions. His ship had only exploded twice on the trip from Old Russia, and while he defended his Ghost’s second (and much better) repair job, he even found some loot! As he materializes on the receiving pad of the Tower, a gathering horde of Humans and Guardians of all “ages” gather around a singular figure deep in the crowd. Randy can feel an almost mythic aura—exotic, even—radiating from the figure. He jabs his scuffed elbows through the crowd to get a clear look. When he finally breaks through, he understands the draw: the Guardian. They stand, one leg propped up on the Tower railing. Randy’s Ghost talked about this person a few times before. Some kind of hero. Big deal. Randy was a hero too. “Amazing,” a Titan says about the weapon in the Guardian’s hands. Randy looks at the Titan wearing a strange chainmail visor. “It’s just a rocket launcher. I got one of those in Old Russia the other day,” Randy brags proudly, unholstering a launcher. His Ghost, Dandy, nudges him. “Now listen here, berry blue,” Dandy says. “What you are looking at in the Guardian’s hands is a top-of-the-line wolfpack deployment device. Each firing of which unleashes hell in the form of a swarm of homing micro rockets. I’ve told you a flock of crows is called a murder? Well, they really should’ve reserved the name for this swarm instead.” Randy holds up his Bad Omens. “I can put a tracking module on this.” Dandy chuckles. “I guess.” Randy looks at the Bad Omens. His pride turns into frustration at the mediocrity of his equipment. In a fit of anger, he heaves the launcher over the Guardian’s head and over the Tower railing. The Guardian pivots and drops to a solid stance. They shoulder and fire off the Gjallarhorn like a volcanic eruption, blowing the Bad Omens to smithereens. Micro tracking rockets hunt down and turn each piece of falling debris to fireworks before they hit the ground. The acrid-sweet smell of burning fuel hangs in the air. Randy’s jaw drops. The Guardian steps forward and places the Gjallarhorn into Randy’s hands with a smile. “Start your legend with this instead.” Discover More Weapons Here
Lorentz Driver
Lorentz Driver Lore: “Weapon system no longer explodes when trigger is pulled.” —Prototype 7.2.1 Revision Notes “What about this rifle?” Skorso asks over the sound of two Brigs moving cargo. Her overseer, a three-armed Vandal named Piiksi, pulls back the drop-cloth covering it. He takes a moment to assess the way the rifle is pieced together from non-weapon components, then motions toward where the Brigs are walking. “Good meals can still spoil,” Piiksi says. “Bring it. But all these spare parts can be left behind.” Skorso nods in acknowledgement, but instead of immediately returning to work, she sidles up close to Piiksi, her eyes darting around the warehouse. “Is this really happening?” she asks in a whisper. Piiksi steps away from her as she sets the rifle down on a nearby crate. “Maybe. Two hands in greeting, two hands concealed. It is a matter of survival.” Skorso challenges Piiksi’s avoidance and circles around the crate, four eyes narrowed. “Spider’s scared,” she whispers again. “Isn’t he?” Piiksi quickly leans in. “You say that any louder, and I can’t protect you from what will happen next,” he says in a sharp whisper, glancing over his shoulder. “Where would we even go?” Skorso asks, searching Piiksi’s many eyes. Her supervisor’s answer is a backpedaling shrug. “Don’t know,” Piiksi lies and gives her a toothy smile. “But like some Eliksni say: the Light provides.” 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.
Ager’s Scepter
Ager’s Scepter Lore: “One day, you will mold the world to your liking, dear brother, as I always have.” —Queen Mara Sov Mara Sov watched her brother imitate a swooping bird as he entertained a semicircle of children. They flocked to him as if the stories he spun were confections. Uldren lurched to his feet—his shadow casting a heroic pose against a canopy of towering Baryon trees—and thrust a slender blade into the air. “Straight through the storm!” he howled as Awoken children shrieked with laughter and applause. “That’s right. The two kestrels were like blades sailing on the wind,” he said, sheathing the fine steel. “As long as they were together, nothing could stop them.” Mara turned to survey the Awoken flotilla anchored deep within their borders, suspended around a floating starport. Soon they would disembark. This night was for revelry. For families to enshrine in their memories should loved ones fail to return. In the morning, Saturn waited. Far-off asteroids groaned like thunder, sending the children into a frenzy of gasps. “Sounds like Ager’s having another battle,” Uldren said, stepping onto a bench to get a better view. He brought a hand to his brow, as if sighting an advancing stormfront. A young Awoken child, no older than six, stood. Uldren watched the worry well in her eyes. “Is he okay? Can you see them fighting?” “Oh yes,” Uldren answered. “Come here.” The child stepped forward. “If I’m not mistaken, your name is Erith, isn’t it?” Uldren asked. The girl nodded, awestruck. Uldren pulled a looking glass from his belt and placed it in her hand. “Look where I’m pointing.” Erith followed the prince’s direction to a spot in the sky that flashed with color. “I see Ager!” she proclaimed proudly. “I see Rega!” Uldren patted her shoulder and smiled. “As long as the two of them are together, nothing can stop them. Just like us. Stand with your cousins, and you’ll be all right.” Mara met his eyes and stepped forward. “That’s enough. The prince has a long journey in the morning, and he must rest. Run along now.” Once the children were beyond eyesight, Mara’s expression shifted to a glare. “These stories…” She leaned into Uldren. “Stop filling their heads with nonsense.” Discover More Weapons Here
Forerunner
Forerunner Lore: A new chapter for an old legend. Banshee-44 considered the relic on his workbench and the questions on his mind; one stood out above the rest: who were you meant for? The form of the weapon suggested an oversized sidearm—a secondary weapon for a giant’s hands. The function presented more so as an anti-material rifle. “Looks to be 12.7mm… it’s like they were making a hand cannon but didn’t know it yet.” Banshee wondered further about the warrior who could wield such a thing. His attention drifted momentarily, drawn by Shaxx’s voice booming nearby. “Huh. Yeah. A Titan, maybe… and a big one too.” The weapon was laced with fractures from a life of fire and a sleep of ice, and perhaps other, more exotic stresses. Banshee wished he could’ve heard the relic’s voice, but he knew from earlier examination that it had fired its last round. What a last round it must have been. The Guardian who brought it to him might be willing to try a shot, untroubled by the risk of a rapid unplanned dismantle. But Banshee knew it wouldn’t last through a single magazine. Beside the relic lay a stripped-down Breachlight. He would adapt it for a larger round. Custom casings and handguard. Sensorium link scope… and he had other ideas to try as well. It would be an homage, an offering to the creators of the original relic. A legacy. With that satisfying thought in mind, the gunsmith went to work. 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.
Cryosthesia 77K
Cryosthesia 77K Lore: There are things colder than cold. She crouched behind a sandstone boulder in the canyon basin and tried desperately to focus. She clasped her lower hands together and squeezed. The feeling of pressure grounded her, made it possible to ignore the blood that flowed from the wound in her thorax. She could hear the Vex coming closer, their metal feet screeching against stone. She raised her dominant hand and the thin spindles of her Splicer Gauntlet clacked into place and began to spin. She envisioned the Light surrounding— She winced as weapons fire impacted the boulder at her back. Turned as it split apart, and for a moment, through the hot blowing sand and choking dust, she faced down an army. She closed her eyes. She saw the Vex targeting field sweep over her, flashing crimson and white. She shifted it with a wave of her hand and a hundred shots flew wide. She felt dozens of Vex-shaped gaps appear in the air behind her and consolidated them. The Vex materialized in the same location and the fused metal mass fell heavily to the ground. She looked over the gleaming field of enemies. The Light provides, she thought, and the next volley of Vex fire curved around her. The Gauntlet on her wrist thrummed as a small portal opened in the air in front of her. She reached inside, felt the familiar shape of a short-term cortical conflux cube, and visualized crushing it in her hand. A flash of light played over the red eyepieces of the Vex and they marched forward in lockstep, searching for a target they could not see. She stepped to the side as they passed her. As the last Minotaur stomped out of the canyon, she reached again into the portal. She willed their knowledge of Misraaks to her fingertips. She saw an image of his Skiff, flying low over the ice, framed in the minds of the Europan Vex. She pictured their awareness as a glass plane and envisioned it cracking, splintering into fragments of— Inside the portal, dark threads wrapped around her wrist. She visualized them snapping as she struggled to withdraw her hand, but they stuck to her like pitch. She saw them crumbling under harsh Light, but the dust wet itself with her blood and dried around her hand. She saw the Light, but all she felt was the cold dark, freezing around her, holding her fast. In the distance, the Vex turned as one. Discover More Weapons Here
Ticuu’s Divination
Ticuu’s Divination Lore: Three points, pushed through forever. The two Legionaries rooted through the armory of their deposed emperor. They swept the rubble aside and lifted a Bow of sharp metal, its thin frame of blackened blades bound with wire. “This is the one the Psions made so you can’t miss.” “Huh. How’d they do it?” “They put time in it.” “What kinds of time?” “Kinds so when you shoot, that’s always when the arrows hit.” “You never ever miss?” “Not unless you were going to anyway.” “But if you do miss, it’ll make it a time that you don’t?” “Right. Unless this time was a time when you did.” ** It was the third day of the dry joining. Ticuu’s voice was rasped raw, but still he clutched the Bow to his chest and held it placid in his mind. Ticuu melded his thoughts with the null. A bastardized metaconcert, one voice in the expanse—a temporal harmony of one. Three arrows, hissing faintly with Solar power, bristled in his fist. Then, an echo: a rusty whine of horsehair on frayed wire. Ticuu plucked the bowstring. Spots of blood appeared on the floor. He plucked again, filling the air with oppressive vibration. Blood welled from his fingers and dripped to match the pattern at his feet. ** “How’s it make arrows?” “They come from time, because they got put there before.” “When you shoot it, how’s it know what heads to hit?” “It goes in time and gets a future where heads always had arrows in ’em.” “But which heads, though?” “The ones that had arrows already.” ** Ticuu’s mind emptied itself, dissipating across the pitch and froth of what was to be. Time was an empty wheel around him. His song held it, and the joining pinned it in place. Three points of harmony between the will and the physical. His fist rose. Three shafts pierced his Y-shaped pupil. They had always been there. Three points, pushed through forever. Discover More Weapons Here
