The Primary Weapons subsection of the Grimoire covers subjects related to Auto rifles, Pulse rifles, Scout rifles, and Hand cannons.
Auto Rifles
All-purpose weapons of war, the standard Auto Rifle is ideal for a number of combat scenarios. Stability is key to controlling fully automatic weapons.
SUROS Regime
Nostalgia as a weapon of war. Style as a hallmark of victory.
Suros engineers designed the Regime using recovered Golden Age schematics. Forced out of production by a crippling shortage of smartmatter, the few remaining models are cherished by those Guardians fortunate enough to wield them.
Hard Light
Ionized polymer synballistic attack platform. The system's lethality is dynamically robust across tactical spaces.
As the City's understanding of Golden Age methods expands, foundries continue to push the cutting edge of tactical armament. The Hard Light prototype is a showcase, built with the rarest recovered materials and the most computationally demanding design methods. The design team included several specialist Exos and at least one Warlock thanatonaut.
In its current iteration, the Hard Light design fires a superheated polymer round with exotic capabilities.
Monte Carlo
There will always be paths to tread and methods to try. Roll with it.
Originally designed as a showpiece, the Monte Carlo's sleek demeanor and intricate firing system make it more than a fashion statement. In the right hands, this beauty puts all the risk at the wrong end of its bayonet
Necrochasm
"Eternity is very close. Can you feel yourself slipping?"
The Weapons of Sorrow were believed to be nothing more than a myth. But even the darkest myths are born of some truths, and whispers of the Necrochasm have long filled the Light with dread.
It is said the Necrochasm was born in the twilight after Crota's sword first cracked the Moon. That a lost Guardian's weapon was altered by the Hive in an attempt to fuse their own dark understanding with humanity's mastery of war. The result was a weapon that would feed on its owner's aggression—reaching further when angry eyes drew focus, its hunger rising as it tore through bone and flesh.
Any Guardian who comes across the weapon must ask some very simple questions with endlessly complicated answers: Is your Light bright enough to stand, even briefly, in full gaze of the Hive's abyss? Can it handle what has died and been reborn in those shadows?
Zhalo Supercell
An upcycled torrent of righteous thunder.
When you're out beyond the Wall, sometimes you have to take what you can find, and make it work. Though its original makers and their no-doubt-desperate straits are lost to history, the Zhalo Supercell remains a striking example of what a Guardian can do with some outdated tech, a deep command of fundamental Light, and a spark of inspiration.
Fabian Strategy
Wait for enemy to make a mistake. Die. Stand by for Ghost Resurrection. Repeat as necessary.
"Good evening, Banshee-44!"
"Howdy."
"Doing well, thank you. ...Actually, I had a bit of difficulty today."
"Uh..."
"The problem with a historical engram is, even if I can figure out when the engram was encoded, that still doesn't tell me when the contents were written. Or even when the events described by the writer take place."
"Uh huh."
"This particular engram is heavily degraded. Encoded Mid-Golden Age, allegedly written by someone named Plutarch, a historian who in turn is writing about someone named Fabius Maximus. But who were they? When did they live? In what kind of warfare was this 'Fabian Strategy' applied?"
"The whatnow strategy?"
"Fabian Strategy. It apparently involves attrition tactics and avoiding direct conflict until an enemy makes a mistake."
"...Huh."
"'Huh' indeed!"
"...But with Ghost res—"
Scout Rifles
The preferred weapon of seasoned marksmen, the Scout Rifle is a single-shot precision firearm. Favoring accuracy above all else, the Scout Rifle packs increased stopping power to counter its low rate of fire.
MIDA Multi-Tool
Select application: Ballistic engagement. Entrenching tool. Avionics trawl. Troll smasher. Stellar sextant. List continues.
Few weapons are balanced this precisely. Once you get a feel for the Multi-Tool it will sit weightlessly in your hand. Firing it will feel less like an action and more like an extension of your will.
The Fate of All Fools
The wise man knows his fate. The fool merely finds it.
The weapon gathers data on the target from the impact and spall of solid body shots, setting up a devastating final hit.
Touch of Malice
- "Let them feel every lash, every curse, every touch of malice that they first dealt to me."
- — Eris Morn
Here am I, with the power to craft from my enemy's darkest secrets a weapon that could wound them at their core!
So what stays my hand?
When I behold the interiority of these cold, cold fragments, I see blind, squirming creatures. Every wound they give, they feel also upon themselves. Every bite they tear from the Light only deepens, never fills, the raging emptiness behind their terrible mouths.
The voices are as loud as ever. My nightmares just as bitter. My coal-black hatred burns as hot. But I feel something else now. Could it be...
No! I refuse it.
I will build this weapon.
The Jade Rabbit
What kind of harebrained scheme have you got in mind this time?
Like many weapons of the Dark Age, the Jade Rabbit was created from hastily reassembled—and often poorly understood—Golden Age technology: in this case, kinetic low-atmosphere propulsion systems in use on Luna settlements. Even the weapon's casing is cut from the plasteel bulwarks of the First Light installation.
The significance of the markings: 玉兔, or "Jade Rabbit," are unfortunately lost to history.
Boolean Gemini
Fight your way!
City foundries produce a wide variety of weapons in an attempt to anticipate Guardians' ever-changing needs on the battlefield. But no Guardian can carry all guns at all times.
Enter the Boolean Gemini. Designed by a think tank of Guardians and foundry representatives, the Gemini was designed to be two guns in one, with a flexible design that allows Guardians to toggle between distinct combat styles for maximum efficiency.
Tlaloc
Release the storm. Hold nothing back.
"Master Rey."
"Gunsmith... What brings you here?"
"Workin' on a custom piece."
"Are you?"
"Yep. For a Warlock."
"Mm. And how are you finding the work?"
"You know. It goes and comes. Memory ain't what it was."
"Yes."
"Good to be back in the shop, though."
"I'm glad of it. Well, then, I suspect you'll find some of my recent research quite interesting."
"S'why I'm here."
Pulse Rifles
The Pulse Rifle is designed for precision fire and tight shot grouping. Three-round bursts provide added punch with reduced recoil compared to fully automatic weapons. Skilled shooters often walk the burst from the target's center of mass onto the head.
Bad Juju
"If you believe your weapon wants to murder all existence, then so it will."
- Toland the Shattered
There must be a structured, mechanical explanation for this weapon's hunger for combat. There must be. But none has been found.
Red Death
Vanguard policy urges Guardians to destroy this weapon on sight. It is a Guardian killer.
Only rumors tell of the mad Guardian who fashioned this butcher's tool. But its power is undeniable, and fear is a formidable weapon.
No Time To Explain
A single word is etched onto the inside of the weapon's casing: "Soon."
Novarro's timeline analysis indicates the weapon is the fabled Exo Stranger's Rifle, enhanced at a future point in this continuity and then sent back to this present.
Deliah's timeline analysis indicates the weapon was built by Praedyth, who based it on his own version of the Exo Stranger's Rifle, and then set it adrift in a time ripple.
Hari's timeline analysis indicates the weapon was built by beings of unidentifiable origin, and arrived here by pure accident.
Inachis's timeline analysis indicates the weapon originates from Earth, late Golden Age, and will eventually be lost to time ripples once again, where its systems will degrade and be replaced until our recent past acquires it as the Exo Stranger's Rifle.
As for me... I think it's safe to say the weapon is proving far more fun than we could have hoped.
Outbreak Prime
"This is an advanced Golden Age technology tied to the death of some of the Light’s greatest champions. It’s currently being used as a tool of the Fallen to push the limits of bio-evolutionary realities. And you’re kit-bashing it together with projectile-based war systems to make a handheld mechanism that delivers aggressive nano-mites?” –Ghost
“That’s one way to put it. All I know is... when you pull this trigger, one plus one equals zero every time. I’ve done the math.” –Shiro-4
Hand Cannons
Sturdy and reliable, Hand Cannons have long been a preferred tool for self-defense. Their low rate of fire and modest accuracy is more than made up for by their ease of handling and superior stopping power.
Hawkmoon
Stalk thy prey and let loose thy talons upon the Darkness
The Hawkmoon is a true gunslinger's weapon - a smooth sidearm that makes every bullet count...some more than others.
The Last Word
- "Yours...not mine."
- — Renegade Hunter Shin Malphur to Dredgen Yor during the showdown at Dwindler's Ridge
The Last Word is a romantic weapon, a throwback to simpler times when steady aim and large rounds were enough to dispense justice in the wilds of a lawless frontier. Of course, some might say that time has come again.
Ghost Fragment: The Last Word
I'm writing this from memory - some mine, but not all. The facts won't sync with the reality, but they'll be close, and there's no one to say otherwise, so for all intents and purposes, this will be the history of a settlement we called Palamon and the horrors that followed an all too brief peace.
I remember home, and stories of a paradise we'd all get to see some day - of a City, "shining even in the night." Palamon didn't shine, but it was sanctuary, of a sort.
We'd settled in the heart of a range that stretched the horizon. Wooded mountains that shot with purpose toward the sky. Winters were harsh, but the trees and peaks hid us from the world. We talked about moving on, sometimes, striking out for the City. But it was just a longing.
Drifters came and went. On occasion they would stay, but rarely. We had no real government, but there was rule of law. Basic tenets agreed upon by all and eventually overseen by Magistrate Loken.
And there you have it...no government, until there was. I was young, so I barely understood. I remember Loken as a hardworking man who just became broken. Mostly I think he was sad. Sad and frightened. As his fingers tightened on Palamon, people left. Those who stayed saw our days became grey. Loken's protection - from the Fallen, from ourselves - became dictatorial.
Looking back, I think maybe Loken had just lost too much - of himself, his family. But everyone lost something. And some of us had nothing to begin with. My only memory of my parents is a haze, like a daydream, and a small light, like the spark of their souls. It's not anything I dwell on. They left me early, taken by Dregs.
Palamon raised me from there. The family I call my own - called my own - cared for me as if I was their natural born son. And life was good. Being the only life I knew, my judgment is skewed, and it wasn't easy - pocked by loss as it was - but I would call it good.
Until, of course, it wasn't.
Until two men entered my world. One a light. The other the darkest shadow I would ever know.
Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 2
The man I would come to know as Jaren Ward, my third father and quite possibly my closest friend, came to Palamon from the south. I was just a boy, but I'll never forget his silhouette on the empty trail as he made his slow walk into town.
I'd never seen anything like him. Maybe none of us had. He'd said he was only passing through, and I believed him - still do, but life can get in the way of intent, and often does.
I can picture that day with near perfect clarity. Of all the details though - every nuance, every moment - the memory that sticks in my mind is the iron on Jaren's hip. A cannon that looked both pristine and lived in. Like a relic of every battle he'd ever fought, hung low at his waste - a trophy and a warning.
This man was dangerous, but there was a light about him - a pureness to his weight - that seemed to hint that his ire was something earned, not carelessly given.
I'd been the first to see him as he approached, but soon most of Palamon had turned out to greet him. My father held me back as everyone stood in silence.
Jaren didn't make a sound behind his sleek racer's helmet. He looked just like the heroes in the stories, and to this day I'm not sure one way or the other if the silence between the town's people and the adventurer was born of fear or respect. I like to think the latter, but any truth I try to place on the moment would be of my own making.
As we waited for Magistrate Loken to arrive and make an official greeting, my patience got the best of me. I shook free of my father's heavy hand and made the short sprint across the court, stopping a few paces from where this new curiosity stood - a man unlike any other.
I stared up at him and he lowered his attention to me, his eyes hidden behind the thick tinted visor of his headgear. My sight quickly fell to his sidearm. I was transfixed by it. I imagined all the places that weapon had been. All of the wonders it had seen. The horrors it had endured. My imagination darted from one heroic act to the next.
I barely registered when he began to kneel, holding out the iron as if an offering. But my eyes locked onto the piece, mesmerized.
I recall turning back to my father and seeing the looks on the faces of everyone I knew. There was worry there - my father slowly shaking his head as if pleading with me to ignore the gift.
I turned back to the man I would come to know as Jaren Ward, the finest Hunter this system may ever know and one of the greatest Guardians to ever defend the Traveler's Light...
And I took the weapon in my hand. Carefully. Gently.
Not to use. But to observe. To imagine. To feel its weight and know its truth.
That was the first time I held "Last Word," but, unfortunately, not the last.
Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 3
It was the fourth night of the seventh moon.
Nine rises since any sign.
Trail wasn't cold, but lukewarm would've been an exaggeration.
Jaren had us hold by a ravine.
The heavy wood along the cliffs' edge caught the wind, holding back the cold and the rush of water muffled our conversation.
We'd seen dual Skiffs hanging low as they cut through the valley.
Wasn't known Fallen territory, but anymore that's a dangerous assumption.
There were six of us then.
Three less than two moons prior, but still, one more than when we'd first turned our backs to Palamon's ash.
We took a rotation for watch during the night.
Movement was kept to a minimum and communication was down to hand signals and simple gestures.
We could hold our own in a fight, but only the dead went looking for one—a hard truth that cut in direct opposition to our reasons for being so far from anything resembling civilization, much less our safety.
The Skiffs had spooked Kressler and Nada, and, in truth, me as well. But, looking back, I think we were all just grasping for any good reason to turn back.
Not because we would—turn back—but because it seemed to be our only real hope, and I think we all knew it.
Forward. Where we were headed—into the unknown. And following the footsteps we were. It all just started to feel like a never-ending dead end after a while.
Jaren never wavered though. Not once.
At least not to any noticeable degree.
It was his drive, his conviction, that kept us going.
And—it's hard to think on—but if I'm honest, it was his death that rekindled my own fire. A fire that was all but exhausted on that cold night.
He seemed confident we were close.
But more than confident—sure. He seemed sure.
No one else felt it—our own confidence, and any enthusiasm we'd had was set to wither soon as Brevin, Trenn and Mel were gunned down.
The Ghost—Jaren's Ghost—never said a word to any of us. Just hung there. Always alert. Always judging. Not us, per se, but the moment. Any moment.
I never got the sense it thought of us as lesser. More that it was guarded, wary.
We knew it could speak. We'd overheard them a few times. Just brief words, and no one ever pressed the subject.
From time to time I caught its gaze lingering on me, but always assumed the attention was a result of the bond Jaren and I had. He was a father to me. At the time I didn't know why he'd singled me out as someone to care for. Someone to protect. After all the loss, I welcomed it, but looking back—taking in the arm's length at which he kept the others—I guess I should've known, or at least suspected there was more to it.
We all woke that night, closer to morning than the previous day.
A crack of gunfire split through the wood. Then more.
Far off, but near enough to pump the blood.
A familiar ring. "Last Word." Jaren's sidearm. His best friend. Then another. A single shot, an unmistakable echo calling through the night. Hushed, cutting.
One shot, dark and infernal. Followed by silence.
We crouched low and quiet. Listening. Hoping.
Jaren was gone. Off on his own.
Maybe we were closer than we'd allowed ourselves to believe.
Too close.
He'd gone to face death alone.
I couldn't admit it—not at the time—but he thought he was protecting us.
After such a long road—years on its heels, a trail littered with suffering and fire—maybe he just couldn't take the thought of anymore dead "kids," as he called us.
The echoes faded and we all held still. No way to track the direction. No sense in rushing blind.
What was done was done.
The cadence of the shots fired told a story none of us cared to hear.
"Last Word" it hadn't been. And somewhere in the world, close enough for us to bear absent witness but far enough to be a dream, Jaren Ward lay dead or dying. And there was nothing to be done.
Hours passed. An eternity.
We held our spot, but as the sun rose the others began to fade back into the world. Without Jaren there was nothing holding us together. No driving force. Vengeance had grown stale as a motivator. Fear and a longing to see more suns rise drove a wedge between duty and desire.
By midday I was alone. I couldn't leave. Wouldn't.
Either I would find Jaren and set him at ease, or the other would find me and that would be a fitting end.
Death marching on.
But then, a motion. Quick and darting. My muscles tensed and my hand shot to the grip of my leadslinger.
Then a confirmation of the horrible truth I had already accepted, as Jaren's Ghost came to a halt a few paces in front of me.
I exhaled and slumped forward. Still standing, but broken. The tiny Light looked me over with a curious tilt to its axis, then shot a beam of light over my body. Scanning me as it had done the very first time we met.
I looked up. Staring into its singular glowing eye.
And it spoke...
Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 4
Then.
Palamon was ash.
I was only a boy – my face caked in soot, snot and sorrow.
I'd assumed Jaren, my friend, our Guardian, the savior of Palamon, would always protect us – could always save us...
But I was a fool.
Jaren, and the others, only a handful, but still our best hunters, our hardest hearts, had left three suns prior. Tracking Fallen, after the bandits had caused a stir.
The stranger – the other – arrived the following day.
He rarely spoke. Took a room. Took our hospitality.
I was intrigued by him, as I was Jaren when he'd first arrived.
But the stranger was cold. Distant. Damaged, I thought.
But I wasn't afraid. Not yet.
Only a child, I knew the monsters of our world to walk like men, but they were not. They were something alien. Four-armed and savage.
The stranger was polite, but solemn.
I took him for a sad, broken man, and he was. Though, at the time, I didn't understand how that could make one dangerous.
As with Jaren, father made an effort to keep me away from the stranger.
It wouldn't matter.
As the silhouette approached, fear held tight.
The dark figure towered over me. Looking into me – through me.
He smiled. My knees weak. All lost.
Then, he turned and walked away.
Leaving ruin and a heartbroken, terrified boy in his wake without a second glance.
I've been chasing that stranger's shadow ever since.
Now.
We stood silent, the sun high.
Seconds passed, feeling more like hours.
He looked different.
He seemed, now, to be weightless – effortless in an existence that would crush a man burdened by conscience.
My gaze remained locked as I felt a heat rising inside of me. The other spoke...
"Been awhile."
I gave no reply.
"The gunslinger's sword... his cannon. That was a gift."
My silence held as my thumb caressed the perfectly worn hammer at my hip.
"An offering from me... to you."
The heat grew. Centered in my chest.
I felt like a coward the day Jaren Ward died and for many cycles after.
But here, I felt only the fire of my Light.
The other probed...
"Nothing to say?"
He let the words hang.
"I've been waiting for you. For this day."
His attempt at conversation felt mundane when judged against all that had come before.
"Many times I thought you'd faltered. Given up..."
All I'd lost, all who'd suffered, flashed rapid through my mind, intercut with a dark silhouette walking toward a frightened, weak, coward of a boy.
The fire burned in me.
The other continued...
"But here you are. This is truly an end..."
As his tongue slipped between syllables my gun hand moved as if of its own will.
Reflex and purpose merged with anger, clarity and an overwhelming need for just that... an end.
In step with my motion, the fire within burst into focus – through my shoulder, down my arm – as my finger closed on the trigger of my third father's cannon.
Two shots. Two bullets engulfed in an angry glow. The other fell.
I walked to his corpse. He never raised his cursed Thorn – the jagged gun with the festering sickness.
I looked down at the dead man who had caused so much death.
My shooter still embraced by the dancing flames of my Light. A sadness came over me.
I thought back to my earliest days. Of Palamon. Of Jaren.
Leveling my cannon at the dead man's helm, I paid one final tribute to my mentor, my savior, my father and my friend...
"Yours... Not mine."
...as I closed my grip, allowing Jaren's cannon, now my own, to have the last, loud word.
Thorn
- "To rend one's enemies is to see them not as equals, but objects - hollow of spirit and meaning."
- — 13th Understanding, 7th Book of Sorrow
Augmented through dark practices, Thorn was once a hero's weapon. Its jagged frame hints at a sinister truth: a powerful connection to the unutterable sorceries of the Hive.
The legend of Thorn is bound to the rise and fall of Dredgen Yor, a Guardian whose name is remembered with disgust and shame. The weapon was thought destroyed...but rumors of its existence still haunt the wilds.
Ghost Fragment: Thorn
The Rose
The noble man stood. And the people looked to him. For he was a beacon - hope given form, yet still only a man. And within that truth there was great promise. If one man could stand against the night, then so too could anyone - everyone.
In his strong hand the man held a Rose. And his aura burned bright.
When the man journeyed on, the people remembered. In his wake hope spread. But the man had a secret fear. His thoughts were dark. A sadness crept from the depths of his being. He had been a hero for so long, but pride had led him down sorrow's road.
Slowly the shadows' whisper became a voice, a dark call, offering glories enough to make even the brightest Light wander. He knew he was fading, yet he still yearned.
On his last day he sat and watched the sun fall. His final thoughts, pure of mind, if not body, held to a fleeting hope - though they would suffer for the man he would become, the people would remember him as he had been.
And so the noble man hid himself beneath a darkness no flesh should touch, and gave up his mortal self to claim a new birthright. Whether this was choice, or destiny, is a truth known only to fate.
In that cool evening air, as dusk was devoured by night, the noble man ceased to exist. In his place another stood.
Same meat. Same bone. But so very different.
The first and only of his family. The sole forbearer and last descendent of the name Yor.
In his first moments as a new being, he looked down at his Rose and realized for the first time that it held no petals: only the jagged purpose of angry thorns.
Ghost Fragment: Thorn 2
The Bloom
TYPE: Transcript.
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.
PARTIES: Four [4]. Three [3] unidentified [u.1, u.2, u.3], One [1] unconfirmed.
ASSOCIATIONS: Breaklands; Durga; Last Word; Malphur, Shin; North Channel; Palamon; Thorn; Velor; Ward, Jaren; WoS; Yor, Dredgen;
//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[u.1:0.1] Can I see what you got there?
[silence]
[u.1:0.2] Yer cannon...can I see it?
[beat]
[u.2:0.1] I know you?
[beat]
[u.1:0.3] Not that I can say.
[u.2:0.2] And you wanna hold my piece?
[beat]
[u.1:0.4] Just that I never...seen one like it.
[beat]
[u.2:0.3] No, you haven't.
[u.1:0.5] Looks dangerous.
[u.2:0.4] Seems, maybe, that's the point.
[u.1:0.6] Suppose so.
[u.1:0.7] Can I see it?
[u.2:0.5] Not likely.
[silence]
[u.1:0.8] Where'd...where'd you find it?
[silence]
[u.1:0.9] You hearin' me?
[silence]
[u.3:0.1] He asked you question.
[silence]
[u.2:0.6] Didn't find it. Made it.
[u.1:1.0] Heh. Helluva touch you got then. You a 'smith?
[u.2:0.7] I look like a 'smith?
[u.1:1.1] Looks can be deceiving.
[u.2:0.8] Got that right.
[u.1:1.2] There a problem?
[u.2:0.9] Doesn't need to be.
[u.1:1.3] Glad we got that cleared up...Now, about that piece.
[silence]
[u.2:1.0] Been to Luna?
[u.1:1.4] Excuse me?
[u.2:1.1] The Moon. You been?
[u.1:1.5] Nobody's been.
[u.2:1.2] That a truth?
[u.1:1.6] That's a fact.
[u.2:1.3] Funny you'd make that distinction.
[u.1:1.7] Truth is you must think you're some kinda something special. With that attitude. The way you're just dismissin' us like you we're nothing...like we ain't even here.
[u.1:1.8] Fact is...You ain't near as rock solid as you figure. Fact is, special's only special 'til it's not.
[silence]
[u.2:1.4] The bones say otherwise.
[u.1:1.9] Speak straight.
[u.2:1.5] You say "nobody." Bones say otherwise.
[u.1:2.0] What bones?
[u.2:1.6] All of them.
[u.1:2.1] What're you gettin' at?
[u.2:1.7] Too many to count.
[u.1:2.2] You trying to get a rile outta us? Was only making conversation.
[u.2:1.8] You really weren't.
[u.4:0.1] We got a smart one here.
[u.2:1.9] Experienced more than smart. But experience has its advantages.
[u.1:2.3] Experience tell you to lip off to strangers just tryin' to make talk?
[u.2:2.0] Keep insisting and maybe we will.
[u.1:2.4] Talk?
[u.2:2.1] Have words.
[u.1:2.5] Ain't that what we're doin'?
[u.2:2.2] My conversations tend to be a bit louder.
[silence]
[u.1:2.6] That a threat.
[u.2:2.3] A truth.
[u.1:2.7] Who the hell you think you are?
[u.2:2.4] According to your facts, "nobody." Yet, here I sit.
[u.1:2.8] Don't matter much how pretty yer cannon is. You keep it up, we'll see just how loud you like to get.
[silence]
[u.1:2.9] You done talkin' now? Guess he knows his place, boys.
[u.2:2.5] Ever have a nightmare?
[u.1:3.0] You playin' games? Or just thick?
[u.2:2.6] I know you have. This world? Can't help, but.
[u.1:3.1] I don't have nightmares. I give 'em.
[u.2:2.7] You are a goddamn cliché. The picture perfect bandit.
[u.2:2.8] Hearing your voice - the things you're saying, the shade of the hard man you pretend to be...
[u.1:3.2] Ain't no shade.
[audible crack]
[audible crack]
[audible crack]
[silence]
[u.2:2.8] Sit down.
[silence]
[u.2:3.0] Sit. Down.
[u.2:3.1] Your mouth just got your friends dead.
[u.2:3.2] This is what happens when you bore me. And right now...
[u.2:3.3] I'm so very bored.
[u.1:3.3] Wha...No listen...
[u.2:3.4] Shhhhh.
[u.1:3.4] But...but...you're a...you're one of them...A Guardian, right?
[u.1:3.5] You're supposed t'be one'a the good ones.
[u.2:3.5] "Supposed to be?" Maybe I am. Maybe this is what "good" looks like.
[u.2:3.6] Anymore, who can tell?
[u.1:3.6] I...
[u.2:3.7] You wanted to see my prize.
[u.1:3.7] No...I...
[u.2:3.8] Look at it.
[u.1:3.8] I...
[audible sobbing]
[u.2:3.9] Whimpering won't stop what comes next.
[u.2:4.0] Look...
[audible sobbing]
[u.2:4.1] Look at it.
[u.2:4.2] Open your eyes.
[audible sobbing]
[u.2:4.3] Not many get such a clean view.
[u.2:4.4] The bone...You see it. Jagged, like thorns.
[u.2:4.5] I used to think of it as a rose...
[u.2:4.6] Focusing on its bloom.
[u.2:4.7] But the bloom is just a byproduct of its anger.
[silence]
[u.2:4.8] You have nightmares?
[audible sobbing]
[u.2:4.9] Ever seen a nightmare? Ever opened your eyes and realized the horror wasn't a dream? The terror wasn't gone?
[u.2:5.0] I've seen nightmares.
[u.2:5.1] They live in the shadows.
[u.2:5.2] They've been watching.
[u.2:5.3] I thought...It's foolish, I know...but I thought I saw a way.
[u.2:5.4] That maybe we could win. Maybe we could survive.
[u.2:5.5] But once you step into those shadows, it's so very hard to walk in the Light.
[u.2:5.6] Or...maybe I just wasn't strong enough.
[u.2:5.7] Maybe.
[u.2:5.8] But I feel strong now.
[audible sobbing]
[u.2:5.9] I stole the dark.
[u.2:6.0] Or, maybe it stole me.
[u.2:6.1] Either way, here we are.
[u.2:6.2] And I'm hungry.
[u.2:6.3] Its hungry.
[u.2:6.4] You have no Light beyond the spark of your pathetic life.
[u.2:6.5] But a spark is something.
[audible sobbing]
[u.2:6.6] Open your eyes.
[audible sobbing]
[audible sobbing]
[audible crack]
[silence]
[silence]
[silence]
/...END TRANSCRIPT///
Ghost Fragment: Thorn 3
A Farewell To Light
TYPE: Transcript.
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Ghost-type, designate [REDACTED] [u.1], One [1] Guardian-type, Class [REDACTED] [u.2]
ASSOCIATIONS: [REDACTED]; Breaklands; Durga; Last Word; Malphur, Shin; North Channel; Palamon; Thorn; Velor; Ward, Jaren; WoS; Yor, Dredgen;
//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[u.1:0.1] You were not always this man.
[u.2:0.1] True.
[u.1:0.2] Then the math says you do not need to remain this man. You can be other.
[u.2:0.2] I am other.
[u.1:0.3] You can be better.
[u.2:0.3] This is better.
[u.1:0.4] That matter, at best, is subjective.
[u.2:0.4] Then what? Lesser.
[u.1:0.5] Some would say.
[u.2:0.5] But what would you say?
[silence]
[u.2:0.6] All we've seen and now, here with me, you have no words.
[u.1:0.6] I have words.
[u.2:0.7] But...?
[u.1:0.7] But you will not like them.
[u.2:0.8] There is much I do not like.
[u.1:0.8] More now than ever it would seem.
[u.2:0.9] Heh.
[u.1:0.9] I find no laughing matter in your path.
[u.2:1.0] Only in the journey.
[u.1:1.0] What brought you here was nobility.
[u.2:1.1] And my prize.
[u.1:1.1] That is no prize.
[u.2:1.2] A curse then?
[u.1:1.2] I would say.
[u.2:1.3] And I would disagree.
[u.1:1.3] You are no longer yourself.
[u.2:1.4] I am myself. It's who I was that's gone.
[u.1:1.4] Who you were held all the value.
[u.2:1.5] To you.
[u.1:1.5] To the Light.
[u.2:1.6] The Light...
[u.1:1.6] It is all.
[u.2:1.7] It is nothing but a crutch.
[u.1:1.7] One that has held you up.
[u.2:1.8] Only just. And nothing more.
[u.1:1.8] Nothing more? You were a hero.
[u.2:1.9] And yet people still die. Corruption still exists. Light still fades. And Darkness still spreads.
[u.1:1.9] As it will ever be, that doesn't mean you give in to...
[u.2:2.0] To what? Hope.
[u.1:2.0] This is not hope.
[u.2:2.1] This is peace.
[u.1:2.1] You have blood on your hands.
[u.2:2.2] How's that any different than prior?
[u.1:2.2] Innocent blood.
[u.2:2.3] Matter of perspective.
[u.1:2.3] That's the shadow talking.
[u.2:2.4] And am I not.
[u.1:2.4] The shadow?
[u.2:2.5] Ya know... These past cycles, you've made an honorable effort. Tried your best to correct my course. But I don't know it needs correcting.
[u.1:2.5] And if it does?
[u.2:2.6] Could be too late.
[u.1:2.6] 'Could be' is a winding path.
[u.2:2.7] Long way from where I was to where I'm going.
[u.1:2.7] That is my hope. That there is still time.
[u.2:2.8] For?
[u.1:2.8] Corrective measures. The righting of our path. The cleansing of your shadow and a return to the Light.
[silence]
[u.2:2.9] Why'd you pick me?
[u.1:2.9] It doesn't work that way.
[u.2:3.0] Was I special?
[u.1:3.0] You were.
[u.2:3.1] But only as special as any other.
[u.1:3.1] You are all special.
[u.2:3.2] Seems to contradict the word don't it.
[u.1:3.2] Not in my estimation.
[u.2:3.3] If we're all special, are any of us special?
[u.1:3.3] Is that what you want? To be special?
[u.2:3.4] Heh.
[u.1:3.4] You dismiss, but it's a very serious questions. Is that all you're after? Is all of the death worth that badge?
[u.2:3.5] Am I not already more than the rest?
[u.1:3.5] Looking at you here, now. The smoke, ash and bone at your feet mark you as so much less.
[u.2:3.6] Maybe. And yet here you are.
[u.1:3.6] Meaning?
[u.2:3.7] You have been at my side every step of the way.
[u.1:3.7] Where else would I be?
[u.2:3.8] Yet you disagree so thoroughly with my change in perspective.
[u.1:3.8] If only the change was simply one of perspective. You're "evolution" was no choice. This is not you having come to an understanding after careful considered thought. This is corruption.
[u.2:3.9] The shadows?
[u.1:3.9] The Darkness.
[u.2:4.0] Maybe so.
[u.1:4.0] There is no maybe here.
[u.2:4.1] And you think you can save me?
[u.1:4.1] I rekindled your Light, it falls first to me to aid in its survival.
[silence]
[u.2:4.2] I tire of it.
[u.1:4.2] You must try...
[u.2:4.3] I tire of you.
[u.1:4.3] [REDACTED]...
[u.2:4.4] That is no longer my name.
[u.1:4.4] I will not speak the other.
[u.2:4.5] It doesn't matter. This is where we part ways.
[u.1:4.5] I will not leave you.
[u.2:4.6] I am leaving you.
[u.1:4.6] Without me, your journey ahead will be more than any one Guardian can handle.
[u.2:4.7] That's the point. It's been sometime since you saw me as worthy of walking among those I once called brother and sister. Yet... anymore, I feel as though I am worthy of so much more.
[u.1:4.7] Without me... You will die.
[u.2:4.8] Someday. Won't be the first time.
[silence]
[u.2:4.9] Consider this my last good deed. I am releasing you of the burden of my deeds, both done and yet to come.
[u.1:4.8] I will not abandon you.
[u.2:5.0] You will. Or I will carve the Light from your shell and leave the carcass of my first and last friend in the dirt of this dull, red world for no one to find.
[u.1:4.9] Then I've failed you, completely.
[u.2:5.1] Not me. Maybe the man I was.
[u.1:5.0] He is truly dead.
[u.2:5.2] I believe so.
[u.1:5.1] Belief is not fact.
[u.2:5.3] Semantics I no longer have the patience for.
[silence]
[u.2:5.4] When you speak of me, use my proper name. Tell them of the man that stands before you, not the ghost of the hero I once was.
[u.1:5.2] You will always be [REDACTED] to me.
[u.2:5.5] If you cannot let that man go, you will forever taint his legacy. All the good I have ever done will be washed away in the fire of who I have become.
[u.1:5.3] If you care, there is still some promise within you.
[u.2:5.6] If I am being honest, I care only to give hope to the frightened, huddled masses so that when I come upon them they will have more to lose. Their pain will be greater. Their screams more pure.
[u.1:5.4] You...
[u.2:5.7] Nothing dies like hope. I cherish it.
[u.1:5.5] You're a monster.
[u.2:5.8] Finally, you see the truth.
[u.1:5.6] [REDACTED] is truly dead.
[u.2:5.9] So I've said. Long live Dredgen Yor.
[u.1:5.7] This is farewell, but you can only run from your sins so far. In the end, you will die alone.
[u.2:6.0] Maybe so. But I gotta tell ya... I tend to like my odds.
[u.1:5.8] Your tainted "Rose" will not always save you.
[u.2:6.1] Old friend... It already has.
Ghost Fragment: Thorn 4
TYPE: Transcript.
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Ghost-type, designate [REDACTED] [u.1], One [1] Guardian-type, Class [REDACTED] [u.2]
ASSOCIATIONS: Breaklands; Durga; Dwindler's Ridge; Last Word; Malphur, Shin; North Channel; Palamon; Thorn; Velor; Ward, Jaren; WoS; Yor, Dredgen;
//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[u.1:0.1] Such Darkness.
[u.2:0.1] Impressed?
[u.1:0.2] Far from it.
[u.2:0.2] To each their own.
[u.1:0.3] His Light is faded.
[u.2:0.3] His Light is gone.
[u.1:0.4] You are an infection.
[u.2:0.4] I am that which will cleanse.
[u.1:0.5] You are a monster.
[u.2:0.5] Heh. An old friend once saw me as the same. He was right, and, had we met earlier, so too would you be.
[u.1:0.6] You'd dare defend yourself – all you've done – as anything but monstrous?
[u.2:0.6] No more than a hurricane.
[u.1:0.7] Then you're a force of nature?
[u.2:0.7] I am all that is right. You may not see it – for lack of looking, or blind ignorance – but I am all that is good.
[u.1:0.8] You've just murdered a good man.
[u.2:0.8] He shot first.
[u.1:0.9] Yet you stand.
[u.2:0.9] Guess he missed.
[u.1:1.0] He never misses.
[u.2:1.0] First time for everything.
[silence]
[u.2:1.1] His cannon? Nice piece of hardware.
[u.2:1.2] Well-worn, but clean. Smooth hammer.
[u.1:1.1] It was his prize.
[u.2:1.3] Guess he put too much faith in the wrong steel.
[u.1:1.2] Is that where your faith lies, in steel?
[u.2:1.4] Not for some time. My steel is only an extension. My faith is in the shadow.
[u.1:1.3] Then my Light is an affront to all you are. I am your truest enemy.
[u.2:1.5] One of many.
[u.1:1.4] Would you end me?
[u.2:1.6] Not you. Not now.
[u.1:1.5] The shadow knows mercy.
[u.2:1.7] The shadow knows no such thing.
[u.1:1.6] Then what?
[u.2:1.8] The other.
[u.1:1.7] What other?
[u.2:1.9] The dead man's charge.
[u.1:1.8] The boy?
[u.1:1.9] You'd end him as well?
[u.2:2.0] If it comes to that... We'll see.
[u.1:2.0] I won't let you have the child.
[u.2:2.1] Been long enough now, think maybe he's a man.
[u.1:2.1] You cannot have him.
[u.2:2.2] Not yet.
[u.1:2.2] I won't let you.
[u.2:2.3] That you could stop me is an amusing thought.
[silence]
[u.2:2.4] Here.
[silence]
[u.2:2.5] Take it.
[u.1:2.3] Why?
[u.2:2.6] Give the apprentice his master's "sword." It is a gift.
[u.1:2.4] You cannot have him.
[u.2:2.7] You fear for his Light?
[u.1:2.5] He...
[u.2:2.8] ...is special.
[u.1:2.6] Yes.
[u.2:2.9] I am aware.
[u.1:2.7] You're trying to tempt him. You're feeding his anger.
[u.2:3.0] The gun is a memento, nothing more.
[u.1:2.8] You claim to be a vessel, a hollow shell where once a man stood, but that is just a lie. The man is still in you.
[u.2:3.1] There is no man here, I am now, and for the rest of time, only Dredgen Yor.
[u.1:2.9] "The Eternal Abyss?"
[u.2:3.2] So, not all the forgotten languages are dead.
[u.1:3.0] Hide behind whatever titles you wish, it is all still a façade. No force of nature would play such games.
[u.2:3.3] Games?
[u.1:3.1] The cannon. You wish to tempt the boy. To spur him on and fuel his rage. There is intent there. The actions of a man, monstrous, mad or otherwise... you are nothing more.
[u.2:3.4] And what value does your conclusion bring, flawed as it may be?
[u.1:3.2] That a hurricane can only be weathered, not stopped. Not redirected. A force of nature is uncaring and without intent, but a man...
[u.2:3.5] Yes?
[u.1:3.3] A man is none of those things.
[silence]
[u.1:3.4] A man can be killed.
[silence]
[u.2:3.6] And there it is...
[u.1:3.5] There what is...?
[u.2:3.7] A sliver of hope.
The First Curse
"...is when death becomes an afterthought."
People always forget about the other one. The first one. They remember its twin, the Last Word, because that's an easier story to tell. But it's not the whole story.
Truth is, there were two of 'em, back then in the lawless days before the City was anything more than a rumor. There are thousands of tales of the fate of The First Curse, which one will you tell?
Ace of Spades
Don't play your hand unless you're sure you have that ace in the hole.
"Heeeeeeey there, Banshee!"
"Whaddya want, Cayde?"
"Just checking in on that thing I asked you to do."
"I told you, my smuggling days are over—"
"No no shhh no not that! The other thing—"
"What other thing?"
"The custom piece! For—"
"Oh right. Right. Course I'm doing that."
"Yeah? How's it looking?"
"Did all the design myself. So it's looking good."
"Is that... an ace of spades?"
"Yep."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 1
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 1
Scrawled in the margins are numerous notes: "Vasili, this man is not fit to write an instruction manual for a garden trowel. Do not worry. I have used my time well, and updated this <untranslatable> with notes that will help you every single day. You are welcome. —Your friend, Dmitri"
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 15
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 15
"You want feedback, you <untranslatable> goat? Your machine technique for barrel rifling is inconsistent, the trigger assembly hasn't been updated in years, and the weapon shell has all the design aesthetic of a Lenin-era post office."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 17
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 17
"This is the folly of modern combat thinking, Vasili. We are safe, right? We have no need for soldiers; not anymore! And if we ever do again, they will think clearing a jam in an hour acceptable because a book told them so. That is why I am here. I will tell you different."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 26
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 26
"Vasili, do not do what this page says. When you see this, cut it out of the manual and throw it into a fire."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 33
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 33
"When you are trying to field strip your weapon, Vasili, you should use a cleaner of my own design. Recipe follows. DO NOT GET ON SKIN."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 38
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 38
"And the generals ask why the soldiers no longer have fighting spirit. What spirit can we have when this is what we work with? I make changes, here. Follow."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 54
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 54
"I've been toying with a new design for firing pin interface. See sketch below."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 67
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 67
"If Ivonovich gives you trouble, remind him who still has a picture of him in a bear suit. He will know."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 74
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 74
"Upper receiver assembly is over-engineered. Khvostov rifles are not art. They are tools! We can do better. See here."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 78
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 78
"Lower extension assembly is surprisingly good design. Still think we can improve maintenance. Follow directions below."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 85
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 85
"Trigger assembly is a mess. Who thought this was a good idea? Use this design, use custom cleaning solution. See huge benefit, overnight. No questions asked!"
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 86
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 86
"Auxiliary inspection points here, here, and here. Follow lines. Make sure you follow line 3 very closely. Does not go where you think."
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 90
Khvostov Field Manual, pg. 90
"Best advice a manual will give you: tell the people you love that you love them. There. Now you are ready to carry a Khvostov."
Khvostov 7G-0X
- ""In battle, you can only count on two things: your comrades and your Khvostov."
- — unattributed, Golden Age Russian saying
The Khvostov 7G0X was the brainchild of two eras: the Golden Age and the City Age. Shiro-4 used the design schematics for the Khvostov series and a little Guardian ingenuity to craft a modern take on a legendary classic weapon. A fitting tribute to those old weaponsmiths and the newest Iron Lord.
Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 5
TYPE: Transcript.
DESCRIPTION: Conversation.
PARTIES: Two [2]. One [1] Ghost-type, designate [REDACTED] [u.1], One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.2]
ASSOCIATIONS: Breaklands; Durga; Dwindler's Ridge; Last Word; Malphur, Shin; North Channel; Orsa, Zyre [AKA Vale, Dredgen]; Palamon; Thorn; Vale, Dredgen [AKA Orsa, Zyre]; Velor; Ward, Jaren; WoS; Yor, Dredgen; Yor, Shadows of
//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[u.1:0.1] Will you fight them?
[u.2:0.1] The Shadows?
[u.1:0.2] Those who have taken up arms in the name of Yor.
[u.2:0.2] The hope is they are more careful than their inspiration.
[u.1:0.3] Do you believe that will make a difference?
[silence]
[u.2:0.3] No.
[u.1:0.4] Then what will you do?
[u.2:0.4] The Vanguard has an eye on...
[u.1:0.5] The Vanguard have their eyes on many things.
[u.2:0.5] I'm aware.
[u.1:0.6] Then what will you do?
[silence]
[u.2:0.6] What needs to be done.
Ghost Fragment: Thorn 5
TYPE: Transcript
PARTIES: One [2]. One [1] Guardian-type, Class Hunter [u.1]
ASSOCIATIONS: Orsa, Zyre [AKA Vale, Dredgen]; Thorn; Vale, Dredgen [AKA Orsa, Zyre]; WoS, Yor, Dredgen; Yor, Shadows of
//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE//
//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS.../
[u.1:0.1] We have tamed the sickness. Broken it with unwilling sacrifice.
[silence]
[u.1:0.1] Now we claim our reward. Have you heard the whispers, brothers? Sister? The shadow speaks. All we have to do is listen. Its secrets are a gift. Its gift? Our evolution. The others misunderstand. We are the Weapons of Sorrow – living and free. The hated heroes of this broken age.