Ancient Apocalypse Suit

Ancient Apocalypse Suit
Warlock Titan Hunter
Specifications
Name:	Ancient Apocalypse Suit
Rarity:	Legendary
Class:	Warlock Titan Hunter
Availability
Sources:	Gambit
Vendor:	The Drifter

Ancient Apocalypse Suit is a Legendary Gambit armor set.

Ancient Apocalypse Hood

"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.

"Maybe you leave your first apocalypse. But your second one never leaves you."

— The Drifter

I had a crew once. My best friends. Which isn't saying much, trust me.

They're all dead now. Almost to a man. So what does that mean for all you lil' Guardians out there who are my new best friends?

Don't think about that one too hard.

Anyway, my crew, or a little subset of it, we leave the system together. Dawn of the City Age at the time. We were looking for somethin' greater than Light. 'Cuz we had seen that Light can be the cause of… so much strife.

We searched far and wide. Must've been… hundreds of years. We found a planet beyond the system bristlin' with an energy that repulsed Light. Naturally, we were curious.

We landed. Intended to settle and conduct the research necessary to make this energy portable. A weapon outta legend called Thorn had similar, Light-repressing capabilities.

It seemed promising. But hand to my heart it was cold. Humans were not meant for that place. Every once in a while a member of the crew would succumb. Died where they stood or sat. Thank the planes for our Ghosts.

We were in high spirits. We were veterans. Grizzled. Hundreds of years in space will do that.

—Drifter's thoughts recited to his Ghost, for posterity. The first of five parts.

Ancient Apocalypse Gloves

"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.

"Sometimes the difference between survival and eradication is just pure, simple stubbornness."

— The Drifter

My crew and I quickly learned that the creatures in the monolith facilities were not the only ones on that damn rock. Plenty of 'em roaming around out in the wild, where it was cold, but less cold than the frozen cages that contained the ones in the monoliths.

How'd we find out? Well, one of us died in our sleep. Not that uncommon or tragic, actually. Happened a lot. Damn cold out there.

Except this time that fella's Ghost couldn't resurrect him. Turns out one'a those creatures just slithered by, and close proximity to it from inside our shelter just… silenced that poor bastard's Light.

It was unfortunate, but it also lit a fire under us. The next morning we realized we had a potential weapon on our hands that could change everything in battles of Light versus Light.

We knew we had to find a way to get these creatures off their icy home.

And we needed to find it fast. Despite our breakthrough, tensions were… a little high. Some of us thought it was awful convenient the creature wandered by and happened to take out only one of us. And so soon after we realized the value of them.

—Drifter's thoughts recited to his Ghost, for posterity. The third of five parts.

Ancient Apocalypse Robes

"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.

"Sometimes it's a cosmic event. Sometimes it's a beast from hell. Sometimes it's one man."

— The Drifter

So there we were. On that cold hunk of ice with no name, just me and my crew. Everything peachy-keen.

We discovered some kind of alien monolith, a facility left by the inhabitants of that planet long gone by then.

But trapped inside was a creature. In a cage of some sort, frozen in ice. An exhibit? Was it some kind of zoo? Still not sure to this day. We should've brought a scientist. All we had were… well, guys who thought we looked tough in dark colors.

During our long stay on that planet, we found many of those monoliths, each with their own captured creature.

Anyway, this thing—the creature—looked like it shared common bioenergetics with the Hive, but there were no records then or since that I've ever seen of humanity's encounters with them. And the creature had a property the Hive did not have. It produced a field that repressed Light—like a Darkness Zone but contained to a gooey, vacuous form with no head.

The anti-Light fields we had detected from orbit that spread across the planet? It was these things. Our ship's scanners indicated thousands of them were on this planet with us.

We were ecstatic.

In hindsight we all could have done with a few less of them.

—Drifter's thoughts recited to his Ghost, for posterity. The second of five parts.

Ancient Apocalypse Boots

"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.

"I stopped counting the Armageddons."

— The Drifter

I mentioned tension was high among the crew in the last one, right? That's what I thought.

Well, it got worse. Another one'a us died. In the exact same way, even after we took up residence in one of the monoliths. Idiot just froze to death, his Ghost too whacked out by Light repression to do anything about it. Died in his sleep.

The others were not happy about it. I was not happy about it.

We had been looking for a way to contain the creatures. The monoliths seemed to have some kind of freeze tech (if you could call it technology) that we could use if only we could replicate it. I'm a pretty savvy mechanic. But we couldn't figure it out.

We started to blame each other. Someone must have lured one of those things near crew quarters. To this day, I still don't know for sure. Why kill just one of us? For what? It was more plausible that the creatures did it knowingly. A punishment for our intrusion. But there was no malice there that we could detect. Only biology.

At the time, we didn't care.

Eventually, one of em drew a gun. I knew it would happen, and I had prepared a soothing speech to smooth things over just in case.

I told 'em to holster that smoke wagon. And the next time any one of 'em tried it again, I'd kill 'em all without a second thought.

I didn't speak plainly often. But when I did, even that crew listened.

—Drifter's thoughts recited to his Ghost, for posterity. The fourth of five parts.

Ancient Apocalypse Bond

"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.

"Had a face like the end-times and eyes like manna in the desert. One look at him, and I knew I wasn't gonna be saved."

— The Drifter

We were at our wit's end. A year on the planet, and we had been completely unable to capture or tame the creatures that had become our sole objective.

They were our bane.

Our ship had long been rendered useless by the extreme cold. We had all died a hundred thousand times over to the cold. I know you've all been in the Crucible. Played Gambit.

This was worse. Much worse.

Anyway. Four of us were left. We were raving psychos at this point. Only the four of us and the howling wind and icy slopes for company. The occasional scurrying, vacuous creature to argue about.

One day, when we had settled in for the night in another monolith, something swept over the planet. I later learned it swept across the system. All'a you hearing this felt it. You were there at the source.

All four of us lost our Light. And we knew it. We looked over at the monolith-creature in its frozen cage. It seemed to stare right back.

I think I mentioned we're all raving psychos at this point. Well, we did what all measured raving psychos would do. We thought we each had been betrayed by the others. We drew on each other.

To this day, I'm not sure how many of those guys drew intending to kill.

But I'll tell you this. I was the only one who walked out.

The creature in that monolith watched it all. When it was over, I stuck a finger straight up at it.

It was just me now.

How'd I get from there to here? Maybe I'll get to tell that story someday. We'll see if my Gambit makes it that far.

—Drifter's thoughts recited to his Ghost, for posterity. The fifth of five parts.

Ancient Apocalypse Helm

"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.

"Maybe you leave your first apocalypse. But your second one never leaves you."

— The Drifter

Drifter leaned his seat back, hands behind his head. He sat in an Arcadia-class jumpship as it roared over a supply train heading into the City. The Titan who owned the ship, sitting next to him, cursed as she tried to align the vessel with the speeding train below.

"This better be worth it," she growled.

"I told you, you'll get twice the rate for Motes in your next Gambit. I'm good for it. Trust." Drifter sat up straight. "Get in close. I'll take care of the rest. Just make sure I get a ride back."

As he opened the ship's side hatch, howling air rushed into the cabin. He yelled over the din, "Good thing ya'll aren't a military. It's easier to bribe you this way."

"Go play in the Ascendant Plane," the Titan yelled back.

Drifter leapt off the ship and landed deftly on the train car below. He pulled a massive hand cannon and crawled forward, the wind ripping at his duster.

Ancient Apocalypse Gauntlets

"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.

"Sometimes the difference between survival and eradication is just pure, simple stubbornness."

— The Drifter

Drifter had a problem.

He had figured this was a train guarded by Redjacks. He had killed two of them out in the back of this car.

He could see the supply crates he was looking for just past the shoulders of two massive Titans. Their armor was branded with Crucible insignias, which meant Drifter would have to be careful in his negotiations. They raised their rifles at him. Jiangshi AR4s. Nice pieces.

"Whoa. Hey," Drifter began, and raised his arms to the roof. "Not lookin' for trouble."

They looked at each other. Then considered him a second.

"What the hell are you doing here, Drifter?" said the one on the left.

Drifter chuckled. "Joxer. How you livin'?"

"Don't let him charm you," whispered the one on the right.

"Redrix?" Drifter had found himself a couple of Gambit regulars. "Listen. Brothers. I gotta get to those supply crates back there. You know how hard it is for me to come across certain pieces. I'm a scavenger. Live a hard life. Cut me some slack."

"Zavala wouldn't like that, Drifter," said Joxer.

Drifter raised an eyebrow. "You tellin' me the Vanguard actually has power over you?"

They didn't respond.

Drifter leaned in. "Listen. You do this for me, and I'll make sure you get paid. Just show up for Gambit next week. Double rate for Motes."

The Titans looked at each other again.

Ancient Apocalypse Plate

"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.

"Sometimes it's a cosmic event. Sometimes it's a beast from hell. Sometimes it's one man."

— The Drifter

Drifter could see Redjacks from his vantage point on the train car roof. Two of Lord Shaxx's idiot frames were guarding the door to the car. The Drifter holstered his hand cannon and drew a long blade instead. He vaulted down to the deck below and took the frames' heads with an arcing sweep, sheathing his sword and catching the bodies before they fell. Complete silence.

Two Redjacks meant more Redjacks. He didn't want to start a firefight. As he entered the car and ducked low, he couldn't help but chuckle. They try so hard, the Redjacks. And yet the average 'Jack didn't last more than three missions.

Gambit was popular with Crucible Guardians—and they spoke frequently about the legend of Arcite and Dahlia, veteran Redjacks dating back to the early Last City. Drifter would believe it when he met them. He kept moving.

Ancient Apocalypse Greaves

"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.

"I stopped counting the Armageddons."

— The Drifter

Drifter found what he was looking for. Three long containers marked "Tex Mechanica."

He slid a long blade under each lid and cracked them open. Rifles, sidearms, and… hand cannons. Drifter pulled a cannon out of the long box, held it up in the dim light.

No one made Dark Age guns anymore. Drifter had looked far and wide. The one source of Dark Age weaponry in this system was him. Gambit.

Dark Age weapons had been forged at a time when Light fought Light. Everything was just a little more efficient back then. And lethal. In Drifter's opinion, of course.

But Tex Mechanica? They came close. They made very reliable cannons. Drifter stared hard at the one he held. The stuff of legend.

The train car jostled, snapping him out of his daydream.

He took everything he could carry.

Ancient Apocalypse Mark

"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.

"Had a face like the end-times and eyes like manna in the desert. One look at him, and I knew I wasn't gonna be saved."

— The Drifter

Drifter made his way back towards the rear of the train, from where he had come. He passed Joxer and Redrix, who had apparently found the Redjacks Drifter had decapitated. The two scrambled to put the frames back together before the train reached the City.

"You guys need to take a load off," Drifter told them.

"Go to hell, Drifter," said Redrix, clearly annoyed.

He and Joxer stared at all the Tex Mechanica pieces Drifter wore. They looked like they were having second thoughts. Drifter unslung a rocket launcher so he could sit down with them.

"Listen. Brothers. I'm doing all this for a reason. Gambit's for a reason. You think I like going out there with you every day? You're all psychos. No. I don't like it. But I do it because there's good reason."

He pulled a Mote of Dark out of his pocket. It glowed coldly. "Think about how many Motes of Light you've collected over your lifetime. A lot, right?"

"I miss my Mythoclast," Joxer said. Drifter could hear the frown in his voice.

"Yeah, you had a Mythoclast! And still the Cabal took the Tower. The Light failed you. Failed me, too."

Drifter held the Mote of Dark up to them. "This, though. It's something special. I made 'em. And you've seen the things you can do when you find even a handful of 'em. Think long and hard about it." Drifter slung the launcher back on his shoulder and turned to leave without looking back.

"Stick with me long enough, and I'll show you what the dark can really do."

Ancient Apocalypse Mask

"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.

"Maybe you leave your first apocalypse. But your second one never leaves you."

— The Drifter

Emerald Coast. European Deadzone.

Guardian jumpships roared away overhead. The Drifter walked along the shoreline, past the wreckage of Cabal shields and armor. The Lights of the Tower had taken very well to his little game.

He gripped a massive hand cannon in his fist, and his Ghost buzzed around his head like a carrion fly. Its Light was as red as a Vex eye. Drifter scanned the battlefield as he walked, making note of the weapons and the scrap he would have the Derelict's AI transmat to the hangar. The beach was littered with burning Cabal tech. Drifter would find a use for all of it. Routine maintenance for the Derelict. Additional banks.

Drifter bet if he took two of Cabal shields and put them together, he could build a cute little hut that would keep out the sun so he could take a nap.

He passed idly by a Legionary crawling towards a discarded Slug Rifle and shot it in the head. The bark of his cannon rang out across the shore.

This Gambit thing was going so well he might soon have the resources for additional battlefields.

He passed a crouched Psion fiddling with the radio on a fallen Colossus' armor.

A burst from Drifter's cannon sent the small Cabal morph flipping backwards, its head evaporating in a violet puff.

Drifter continued his stroll, readying the battlefield for the Derelict's arrival. The occasional monstrous bark of his cannon was the only sound for miles around.

Ancient Apocalypse Grips

"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.

"Sometimes the difference between survival and eradication is just pure, simple stubbornness."

— The Drifter

Emerald Coast. European Deadzone.

Drifter waited, covering his eyes from the sun as the Derelict descended on a coastline covered in Cabal wreckage.

He keyed a switch on his remote and his ship's Transmat beam dissolved the bank at the center of the battlefield. He couldn't help but chuckle. His Ghost looked at him quizzically.

"Sometimes it is just this easy," Drifter said, shrugging. "The Guardians get paid and we collect our goods. No ambushes, pompous aliens—"

He heard a dull boom behind him over the howl of the Derelict's engines. The sky darkened. He turned to see that Cabal reinforcements had arrived from a massive capital ship above. Armored soldiers landed with heavy thuds in the sand, their weapons a glistening silver.

Drifter's Ghost expanded and its eye went wide. It did this instead of laughing. It couldn't laugh.

"Shut up. Shut up, you idiot." Drifter waved his friend away.

He eyed the approaching squad of soldiers bristling with armor and weapons. The Mote of Dark was cold to the touch in his hand.

Ancient Apocalypse Vest

"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.

"Sometimes it's a cosmic event. Sometimes it's a beast from hell. Sometimes it's one man."

— The Drifter

Emerald Coast. European Deadzone.

Drifter shambled up to the bank. He dragged a Psion corpse with him so he'd have something to sit on.

He dumped the body to the ground, took a seat.

Drifter licked his finger and slid it behind a hidden panel on the bank's outer shell to crack the thing open. It unfolded, ejecting a single, compressed Mote.

A Mote of Dark, he called it. He could see it glow despite the shining sun overhead. It was chill to the touch, an effect of the bank. This particular haul was worth a hundred and two singular Motes of Dark. A one-sided slaughter.

His comfy Psion chair twitched. He stood up, blasted two rounds into it with a massive cannon.

Above him, the Derelict descended. His Ghost flinched slightly as the ship's engines kicked up a whirlwind of dust. Drifter cooed softly to his friend. "I love this job."

Ancient Apocalypse Strides

"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.

"I stopped counting the Armageddons."

— The Drifter

A sudden wind tore at Drifter's duster. He stared hard across the sand at the line of Cabal soldiers in his path. A towering Centurion at the head spoke for the group in fierce Cabalese.

[Surrender your weapons and your ship. Or die.]

Drifter stuck a single finger in the air at them. He imagined the Cabal narrowing their eyes at him under the helmets.

[Why does your kind always insist on fighting even when you are so hopelessly outgunned?]

Drifter shook his head. "I won't fight. I like to watch," he says, and keyed the Mote of Dark in his hand.

An unearthly howl filled his ears and he cursed. He never quite got used to it. The sky turned a shade of fiery green and split in half.

Nine creatures that Guardians would know as Primevals stepped onto the sand of the Emerald Coast, out of place, impossible, massive, and wrong.

The Cabal let out a guttural cry. An approximation of fear.

Tracers raked the air as they fired everything they had against the suddenly-emerging Taken. Explosions rocked the shoreline as the Cabal ship joined in the assault. Pillars of flame erupted into the sky. The Primevals didn't seem to notice, marching forward through the bullets and the fire towards the enemies of their master, who hadn't moved from where he stood.

The Drifter's smile was all teeth.

Ancient Apocalypse Cloak

"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.

"Had a face like the end-times and eyes like manna in the desert. One look at him, and I knew I wasn't gonna be saved."

— The Drifter

The Drifter walked along the shoreline, past the wreckage of Cabal shields and armor. His Primevals had done their work.

He gripped a massive hand cannon in his fist, and his Ghost buzzed around his head like a carrion fly. Drifter scanned the battlefield as he walked, making note of the weapons and the scrap he would have the Derelict's AI transmat to the hangar.

He ambled up to a dying Psion amidst the wreckage of a Harvester torn in half, and stared down at it as it bled.

The front of its skull started to glow, a telltale sign that it was trying to throw its mind up at the Drifter.

He stepped forward and kicked it squarely in the head.

He knelt down.

"All the people who matter say we're on the precipice of a new Golden Age. I'm still trying to figure out what that means. But I can tell you this: the last time humanity had a Golden Age, we owned this system. Every inch of it."

He leaned in to whisper into where the Psion's ears would be if it had ears.

"And not all of us are as polite as the ones up in that Tower." A monstrous bark from his hand cannon rang out, the only sound for miles around.

List of appearances

• Destiny 2: Forsaken (First appearance)
  • Season of Arrivals