Warmind's Avatar Suit

Warmind's Avatar Suit
Specifications
Rarity:	Legendary
Class:	Hunter Titan Warlock

Warmind's Avatar Suit is an Armor set introduced in Season of the Seraph.

Lore

"And my vanquisher will read that book, seeking the weapon, and they will come to understand me, where I have been and where I was going."The following is a verbatim transcription of an official document for archival reasons. As the original content is transcribed word-for-word, any possible discrepancies and/or errors are included.

Warmind's Avatar Helmet

Trust him

"He is not compromised!"

Saint-14's voice echoes off the walls of Ikora's study. It would be hoarse if he weren't an Exo—they've been arguing for over an hour.

Ikora crosses her arms over her chest. "We can't know that for sure."

"You can't," Saint fires back, "but I can. I see it in him. The frustration, the guilt, the pain. Osiris is telling the truth about his visions!"

"I don't doubt that he is," Ikora replies, a note of frustration creeping into her own voice. "But my Hidden turned their eyes to Neptune and found nothing. I can't ignore the possibility that Savathûn planted those visions in his head to misdirect us."

"So, you ignore his warnings instead?" Saint asks pointedly. "Send your spies for a quick glance and then bury their findings in a drawer? Is every word Osiris speaks forever tainted by the Witch Queen?"

Ikora says nothing in response. The silence drags on until Saint grumbles to himself and turns to leave.

"Saint," Ikora calls after him, warmer than before. "Osiris needs to rest. Please keep an eye on him."

"Why?" Saint asks without looking back. "I'm sure your Hidden have enough eyes on him as it is."

He leaves before Ikora can say another word.

Alone in her study, she reaches into a drawer and pulls out a stack of papers: documents she had once been ordered to destroy but had instead preserved.

Osiris's prophecies, from a time when she trusted his every word.

Warmind's Avatar Gauntlets

Caught alone in a tangled web

Osiris pulls the hood of his oversized cloak forward. Though he hopes to pass through the Botza District unnoticed, the sharp beak protruding from his shadowy hood betrays his disguise. Eliksni passersby stare at him with suspicion.

The erstwhile Warlock slips into a darkened corner of The Ether Tank, where the barroom floor bustles with both Human and Eliksni gamblers, who wager whether the Warmind Rasputin will be restored, and how many civilians it will kill if revived. On the far side of the room, Spider lords over the scene with satisfaction. Osiris watches him, intent on finding a way to discretely question him regarding Neptune. The Eliksni crime boss has cultivated a different set of informants than the Hidden, and Osiris needs intel from the widest net possible.

Suddenly, Osiris feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Though he no longer has his Light, centuries of training have left his intuition as sharp as ever. He merges into a crowd of karaoke enthusiasts and surveys the room.

Standing just inside the tavern entrance is another cloaked figure. Though their disguise is far more plausible than his own, Osiris can clearly identify the Praxic Warlock, Aunor Mahal. Osiris curses under his breath.

He retreats through the back entrance into the chill of the night. Osiris feels the darkness close in around him and wonders who among his former allies still trusts him.

Given everything, he wonders whether he should still trust himself.

Warmind's Avatar Chest Armor

Surrounded by shadows

Construction scaffolding casts geometric shadows across damp alleyways. Work is still being done to repair the damage caused by Ghaul's invasion, and it is here in this place where rats scurry in the absence of citizens and where Osiris lies in wait.

He had been here once before, nestled in a crack at the foot of the Schnell building, cupping his hands to his face to hold back the dark tide of necrotic fluid pulsing from his—

No. That was Savathûn. But still, the shadows remember him, and he remembers their embrace.

Osiris stirs from his reverie the moment his pursuer enters the alley. He can see her shadow cast across the wall, penned in by the scaffolding's negative space. It is an optical illusion of a prison, a trick of the eye. Aunor Mahal notices the configuration and appreciates the symbolism of walking into a spider's web just before Osiris lunges from the darkness, grabbing her by the collar of her robe to slam her up against the opposite wall.

Aunor grunts on impact, her gaze trailing down to Osiris's trembling hands holding fistfuls of fabric. While his stare is ferocious, his strength is lacking. She lets him hold her there against the wall, and the moment he realizes he's being pitied, Osiris releases her and takes a step back.

"Your mind is still sharp," Aunor opines. It stings his pride, makes his jaw clench. "What did you think was going to happen next? I'm not going to fight you." She looks him up and down. "It wouldn't be sporting."

"I remember the day you were raised," Osiris says with hushed strength. "Curled up beneath a ruined bus, screaming for help. Too terrified to listen to your Ghost, too frightened to hold the gun it had nudged under the wreck for you."

Aunor sucks in a breath through her teeth and smooths the front of her robe. "I'm not here to hunt you," she clarifies. "I'm here to keep you safe."

"From yourself" is implied. To that, Osiris has no retort. He reconsiders his surroundings and his actions and shrinks away with regret.

Warmind's Avatar Leg Armor

Searching for here and now

Every instinct tells Osiris to fight. And yet…

"I'm glad you could make it," is the warm greeting that Saladin Forge gives to Osiris as he steps into a study aboard the Ascendancy Flagship Eligos Lex V. Cabal architecture blends with rustic Human furnishings that would not look out of place in the Iron Temple. Tea is already steeping when Osiris joins Saladin at the table, the aroma of black Assam bringing back ancient sense memories.

"I assume your tastes haven't changed much," Saladin says, gesturing to the tea.

"Did Ikora ask you to check on me?" Osiris asks, and realizes how defensive it sounds the moment it leaves his mouth. He masks his bitter regret by taking a sip of the too-hot tea.

"No. I wanted to check on an old friend." Saladin sits forward, cradling his own cup without lifting it from the table. "But I see you survived a Lightless encounter with not one but two Hive gods. I'd say you're doing better than most."

The pride in Saladin's voice makes Osiris's stomach turn. Not out of uneasiness, but out of shame. And yet, Saladin's certainty isn't patronizing. It's not in his nature to be.

"You're content here?" Osiris deflects. "Among the Cabal?"

Saladin shrugs away his question. "Contentment is a luxury neither of us can afford. I am here. That's what matters. My place is here now, and humanity is better for it." A moment of silence hangs over the two, and Saladin is the first to brave that space. "How long has it been since you and I took tea together?"

"I can't even remember," Osiris says. "So long ago that it feels like a dream." Then, quieter: "Jolder was there."

Saladin says nothing, focusing instead on his rippling reflection in the teacup.

"I should not have mentioned her name," Osiris adds softly.

"No." Saladin's response is swift and firm. "I don't want Jolder's memory to fade like so many others. It may hurt to remember, but that pain reminds us that we lived."

Warmind's Avatar Class Item

Let him find what he needs

Datapads are stacked atop handwritten field reports stacked upon leatherbound tomes. They rest in a spot of sunlight spilling through a round window draped with linen curtains dyed sunset hues and framed by crawling ivy and wisteria.

Osiris stoops over the table, half in the beam of afternoon light and half out. An audio log plays on one of the tablets, with subtitles to translate the speaker's tongue of Ulurant:

<<ATMOSPHERIC COMPOSITION HYDROGEN, HELIUM, METHANE. SCANS SHOW NO ACTIVE STRUCTURES OR CIVILIZATIONS.>>

Osiris clenches one hand into a trembling fist, then scrubs forward in the log.

<<STARSHIP TRANSIT CORRIDORS NEAR PLANETARY BODY ARE NON-EXISTENT. LACK OF HABITATION IDEAL FOR CONCEALING CIVILIAN FLEET. NO SIGNS OF PRIOR HUMAN HABITATION. >>

Cursing, Osiris sweeps the tablet off the table along with the books and notes. A scream rises from his mouth, and as he turns in rage, he locks eyes with Saint. Fury burns away to a cool ember of shame the moment Saint steps from the kitchen doorway. His partner is not dressed in armor, a sight few ever see. Instead, his broad shoulders are concealed by a loose poncho of magenta and lilac bearing embroidered bird patterns spun by Eliksni hands.

Saint approaches and gently cups Osiris's face in his hands. The gesture causes the tension to melt away, and Osiris rests a cheek against Saint's fingers.

"Why are you so angry?" Saint asks, his voice gentle and reassuring. It isn't so much a question as it is an exercise.

"I'm afraid," Osiris whispers into Saint's palm. "That Ikora is right. That I—That I'm—" It takes time for Osiris to make his fear real with words, but Saint gives it to him.

"…That I'm broken."

Saint pulls Osiris to his chest in a firm embrace, then presses a kiss to the top of his head. "You are not a teacup," he whispers against the shorter man's scalp. "People do not break, and you are not broken." Osiris rests his forehead against Saint's chest, at once feeling humbled and secure.

The embrace lingers for as long as Osiris needs it, and when he finally does lean back enough to look up into Saint's eyes, he asks, "Then what am I?"

To which Saint simply replies, "You are enough."

List of appearances

• Destiny 2: Season of the Seraph (First appearance)