Techeun's Regalia Suit

Revision as of 11:18, June 21, 2024 by WizardWolf (talk | contribs) (Created page with "{{Armor infobox |image=350px |name=Techeun's Regalia Suit |type= |rarity= Legendary |class= |minimum level= |defense rating= |light= |loot drop= No |vendor= |price= }} '''Techeun's Regalia Suit''' is a Legendary Armor introduced in Season of Defiance.<ref>'''Bungie (2023/2/28)''', ''Destiny 2: Season of Defiance''</ref> ==Techeun's Regalia Helm/Hood/Mask== {{Quote|The absence of fear in the face of danger is not...")
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Techeun's Regalia Suit
Techeun Regalia.jpg
Specifications

Name:

Techeun's Regalia Suit

Rarity:

Legendary

Availability

Loot drop?:

No

 

Techeun's Regalia Suit is a Legendary Armor introduced in Season of Defiance.[1]

Techeun's Regalia Helm/Hood/Mask

"The absence of fear in the face of danger is not bravery. It's either foolishness… or insanity."
Lord Saladin

"We can't be predictable or we'll never find a good place to stick a knife."
Crow

"Mara, if you can, find a way to get me inside. I'll handle the rest."
Ikora Rey

Ikora Rey squinted upward. The warm sun and birdsong on the air somehow enhanced the sense of foreboding that pervaded the Farm. Across from the Vanguard leader sat a young pilot, fidgeting nervously with the zipper tabs of her flight suit.

"Did they feed you?" Ikora asked, keeping her tone deliberately mild.

"Yes, ma'am," the pilot nodded. "They gave us all a giant bowl of this… brownish slop. Like a trough, really. It smelt like cat food. I guess they expected us all to just eat with our hands? Nobody trusted it, though."

"And how did the prison guards seem to you?" the Warlock continued. "What were they like? Rough, gentle… loud? Did they talk to each other?"

"No, ma'am. They weren't like… anything." The woman furrowed her brow, trying to find the words to express herself. "I've been around Cabal before, both friendlies and hostiles. They're usually pretty boisterous. Tussling, trash-talking… you know, like soldiers do."

Ikora nodded in understanding. She'd found the lower echelons of Caiatl's retinue quite rambunctious in the absence of their empress.

"But the Shadow Legion just seemed… empty," the pilot continued. "Sometimes, an officer would bark orders, but other than that, it was dead quiet. Our cell guards would just stand there, not moving, staring straight ahead, breathing real heavy. Almost… wheezing. They might as well have been frames for all the personality they had."

She was silent for a moment. "I don't know why," she concluded, "but that emptiness scared me more than anything."

Techeun's Regalia Gauntlets/Gloves/Grips

"Help when you can. This is best, most simple way to become hero."
Saint-14

"Look after the people. The Traveler can take care of itself… I hope."
Amanda Holliday

"Tell him… I risk my life only because I have so much to live for."
Osiris

Saint-14 followed the trajectory of the Hawk as it plummeted. He reached the crash site several miles out.

The Legion patrol that arrived soon afterwards had come prepared to confront a few injured civilians. Not Saint-14. While the crew huddled under his Ward of Dawn, Saint hurled his shield at the field commander's rifle, then charged.

Even battle couldn't silence his thoughts entirely. It was unkind of him, to wish for Osiris to be here beside him, trading blows with the enemy. Osiris was no longer helpless, but neither was he unchanged. If he were here, Saint would have asked that he stay inside the Ward's shield with the others.

But Osiris had run off to Neptune, where Saint could do nothing for him but wait.

Saint punched through a Phalanx shield, tore it from the Shadow Legionary's grip, and brought it down repeatedly onto the Legionary's head.

When Saint was finished, he extended a hand toward the nearest civilian.

"Come. Geppetto and I will lead you back to the Farm."

The woman was focused on cutting at her scarf with her knife, working with the determined focus of someone performing a ritual. He looked at the faded violet cloth in her hand, and the familiarity of the moment washed over him.

Saint sank to one knee and waited patiently as she tied the strip of material to his armor.

Things had not changed so much. He could be patient. He would tell Osiris this story, too, when they were face to face once more.

Techeun's Regalia Plate/Vest/Robes

"Normally, I would say nothing is beyond us with Queen Mara's assistance… but things are far from normal."
— Commander Zavala

"I think I would have liked the Farm back before all this. Well, before a lot of things."
— Crow

"I did not think I would see the Farm again. It seems smaller now."
Mithrax

While Devrim and the Guardian discussed strategy around a table littered with maps and steaming mugs of tea, Ghost glided silently away through one of the gaps in the roof.

Once outside, he kept low, following the creek bed toward the outlying buildings. He looked at the broken waterwheel that lay toppled across the stones and tried to remember the Farm as he had last seen it.

Survivors had flocked here during the Red War, banding together to gather supplies and resources. They built water purification equipment and planted crops. They built new homes for themselves. Even under the shadow of Ghaul's ambitions, there had been laughter here, and defiant joy.

Now the Farm was still and quiet, frozen in the aftermath of the Shadow Legion's attack. The soldiers, technicians, and medics posted here tonight were grim-faced and focused. No one was fishing off the dock. No one was laughing by a fire.

The soccer field had been bombarded past recognition. Most of the surviving buildings could barely accommodate field equipment. The Farm wasn't much of a farm.

But then, it wasn't that long ago that there hadn't been anything here at all.

Whether they faced Ghaul or the Shadow Legion, the task ahead remained the same. Gather survivors. Help them reach safety.

So long as there were people to rebuild it, there would be a Farm. There would be joy here again.

Ghost took one final look at the stars. Then he turned and floated back around toward the outpost and his Guardian.

Time to get to work.

Techeun's Regalia Greaves/Strides/Boots

"Though we go where none have walked before, we do not tread lightly."
— Commander Zavala

"You've got your Light and your Dark, but I've got a couple of shells, and that's enough."
— Amanda Holliday

"I am with you every step of your journey. All of you."
— Mara Sov

Druis stood at the edge of the floating rock in the Ascendant Plane, silently counted to three, and leapt.

At the apex of her jump, she flared her Light in a buoyant pulse around her, then began floating downward… and kept floating. She groaned as she awkwardly missed the distant ledge she sought and instead drifted slowly into the blackness below.

She reached out for purchase along the side of the chasm, but her gloves met only the fleshy cilia of the egregore. She recoiled—egregore fungus in the Ascendant Plane?—but then sank her hands deep into the stuff to slow her fall. She came to rest on a boulder, caught unsteadily in a clump of writhing fungus.

Druis squinted up through the darkness. Waving egregore fronds bobbed into her field of vision and she pushed them aside. She brought the sleeve of her green velvet robe to her mouth, trying in vain not to inhale the cloud of foul spores that hissed steadily from the fungal pods.

She focused herself. "C'mon, Queensguard," she muttered. "You can do this." She thought of Queen Mara and concentrated her Light beneath her, forcing herself upward to—

A pervasive whispering pushed into her mind as a sticky tendril brushed against her arm. She swatted it back and focused again.

She thought of the prisoners languishing within the Pyramid outposts, innocents who needed—

A wet pileus flopped onto her boots, thrumming with terrible memories. She kicked it away with a snarl and thought of her allies, those she'd helped and been helped by along her journey—

The stone shifted beneath her as the Ascendant Plane rearranged itself with a lurch. She looked up as the egregore on the sides of the abyss began to intertwine, sealing her in.

There was a cold shock of fear… then rage. I will not die here, she thought. Not in this place. I will not be food for this creeping filth. I—

Druis thought of herself.

Her Light flashed upward, cutting through the nothingness, and touched the favor of the Awoken.

Spirals of tiny purple crystals sprouted from the ground beneath her boots. The shifting stone she stood on locked in place, fused into an amethyst mass.

An egregore pod wavering inches from her face froze, crystal encrusted, like a piece of sugared fruit. It bent heavily, then snapped under its own weight and shattered on the ground.

Druis wreathed her Light around herself. The egregore on the side of the chasm recoiled as if burned, revealing handholds of bare, clean stone.

She nodded, tightened her sash, and began the arduous climb back to the top.

Techeun's Regalia Mark/Cloak/Bond

"What stories will they tell of you when this is over?"
— Saint-14

"The same challenge rises before us, and all we can do is survive."
Eris Morn

"This conflict is about more than people. Never lose sight of that."
— Ikora Rey

Skiris looks out at the tangled clusters of cables and machinery that run along the rooftops of the outpost that the Humans call the Farm. Her mind sets steadily to work dissecting all of it, categorizing each portion of scrap by its respective worth in Ether.

One of the Corsairs strides past, and Skiris returns her gaze at once to the transmitter she is fixing. The Awoken woman does not even slow her pace, but Skiris feels her own limbs stiffen with panic.

Beside her, Riksor chitters in amusement.

"Be at ease. We are not intruders here."

"You have been of House Light for a long time," Skiris observes, smothering her frustration into cold neutrality. She does not wish for the Awoken to hear the two of them speaking angrily.

"My father was of the Gentle Weavers," Riskor says. "He died a Wolf. He did not trust peace either."

Skiris thinks about that House's great fleet, shattered by the Awoken Kell before it could ever threaten this world.

"This is different." They are not servants to the Awoken. Skiris has no idea what she is, now that she has crawled out of the ruins of House Dusk and come to the attention of powerful forces.

"Yes." Riksor's eyes are Ether-bright with joy. "We are Queen-guards."

You are only a stupid drekh, Skiris thinks. So is she, because Riksor's confidence helps quiet the insistent thought that disaster will come the instant Skiris stops worrying.

"Someday," Riksor says, "this world will belong to all of us."

She looks at him sharply. "The Eliksni?"

He laughs. "To Eliksni, too."

References

  1. ^ Bungie (2023/2/28), Destiny 2: Season of Defiance

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