Tusked Allegiance Suit
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|Tusked Allegiance Suit
Tusked Allegiance Suit
Tusked Allegiance Suit is the seasonal armor set of the Season of the Risen.
Tusked Allegiance Mask / Helmet / Hood
- "They are an insult, a stain that's our duty to wash away."
- — Lord Saladin
Sok'tol, Fifth of the Light, felt flame surge through his body as he was resurrected.
He became aware of many things at once: the altar beneath him. The roaring of Acolytes. The powerful grip on his shoulders, which even now began to crack under the pressure.
Above him, a trio of Wizards held his Ghost tight, its bleached shell ensnared by ebony tendrils of controlling spellcraft. It pulled against the bonds but could do nothing but look down at him helplessly.
SING OF HER LIES. SPEAK OF HER TRUTHS.
The voice was everywhere. As Sok'tol strained to sit up, something slammed him down, pounding his chitinous skull into the stone again and again. He screeched as the bony frill surrounding his face splintered and snapped loose. He felt his jaw dislodge, felt his own teeth crush against his face, felt himself crack and shatter.
Blackness. And then—
As his shell knit and restored soulfire flowed anew, Sok'tol, Fifth of the Light, shuddered awake.
The Acolytes roared again. They crowded the altar, surrounded by a haze of green. Sok'tol peered upward at the Ogre pinning him against the altar.
It tightened its grip on his shoulders, claws crackling with wrathful energy. It shook its massive head, crowned in an emerald corona, and bellowed in a voice that was not its own:
YOUR STRENGTH BECOMES MINE. AS WILL HERS. SPEAK.
Sok'tol concentrated the Light in his armored hand and began to form a grenade, but the shrieking Acolytes reached forward and tore his fingers apart in their claws.
Sok'tol bared his teeth and hissed up at the Ogre, whose eyes rolled with fury as a blast of soulfire erupted from its mouth. Sok'tol opened his jaws to howl as he was obliterated.
Blackness. And then—
Tusked Allegiance Grips / Gauntlets / Gloves
- "If this is a test, we shall not fail."
- — Lord Saladin
Glint flew toward the corpse without a word. Crow pretended not to notice and kept walking through the woods. He's been in a mood all day, Glint thought with a static sigh. He could use some time alone.
When he reached the Hive, Glint resisted the absurd reflex to scan it for compatibility. Instead, he simply assessed, noting the strong arms that could handle the recoil from heavy weapons; the thick shell, built to absorb all manner of firepower; the remains of a bony shield that sizzled nearby, powerful enough to protect—
The space next to Glint fluctuated as a bone-white Hive Ghost appeared.
The two froze warily in midair.
"Hey," the Hive Ghost whispered after a moment. "It's okay." Its voice was surprisingly soft.
Its green eye flickered reassuringly and it began to focus Light.
Glint bobbed unsteadily. Crow was fifty yards off, moving carefully through the trees. "You shouldn't—"
"It'll be all right," it said and hovered lower to the ground, pouring Light into the fallen Hive. The surrounding ferns trembled with the sudden flow of energy.
"Wait," Glint pressed. But the Ghost ignored him as the thick armor of the Hive began to reform.
"Crow!" Glint screamed, "Crow, here!" And he flew to him without turning back.
Tusked Allegiance Vest / Plate / Robes
- "I believed not that the Light was good, but that there is goodness in those who defend it. I still do."
- — Lord Saladin
Mithrax delicately pushed the low curtain aside as he entered the bedroom.
Tall shelves crowded him, cluttered with relics from Mercury and beyond: piles of intricate scrolls, silver hourglasses that turned of their own accord, ceramic pots of red soil sprouting delicate metallic vines beneath glass domes. An enormous feathered mantle was mounted carefully on a wooden stand and crowned with a birdlike cowl.
Mithrax rapped politely on the doorframe.
"My friend," Saint-14 said. "It is good of you to come."
Mithrax approached Saint and bowed. "It is an honor to be invited," he said. "These visits are pleasant to me."
He held out the covered dish he was carrying in his lower arms, but Saint's eyes remained fixed on Osiris.
The Titan took a ragged breath. His voice was a hoarse whisper: "Could the Psion machine… connect my mind with his? So that I might share his dreams?"
Mithrax felt useless. He spoke softly: "The Psion tells me the subject must have residual activity for a reading, and Osiris has been asleep very long. Besides, the connection you seek joins the Light of one being to the Light of another, and Osiris is—"
"Lightless, yes," Saint finished flatly. He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped before him. He was silent for some time.
"I will let him sleep alone," Saint finally said, and caressed Osiris's hand with impossible tenderness. "When he wakes, we will dream together once more."
He adjusted the blankets, stood, and nodded toward the covered dish Mithrax still clutched awkwardly.
"I am hoping that is not more eggplant," he said.
Mithrax coughed on his Ether. "The eggplant is most nourishing," he protested weakly, and Saint groaned.
Tusked Allegiance Strides / Greaves / Boots
- "Glint says to keep moving. That's how you know something's wrong."
- — Crow
"What did I tell you about dying in the open?" the little Ghost cried in frustration. Determined, he rose into the air, but the Hive Knight was already charging across the Trostland cobblestones.
A sudden explosion of Void energy took the Knight by surprise, but it dodged the pulsing shockwaves of a Vortex Grenade. A tall Warlock in a worn green robe loped from the treeline and slid to a stop before Bask. She hastily formed a ball of Light in her palm and slammed it into the ground. Delicate wisps of energy began to rise from the soil.
"That's not gonna help!" Bask whirred angrily.
The Warlock stood, sheltering Bask with her body as he resumed his focus on Jolur. The Knight screeched and resumed fire. A volley of Shredder bolts doubled the Warlock over, but the energy seeping from the rift gave her the strength to keep standing.
"Thanks," said Bask sheepishly.
"Don't mention it," she said, gritting her teeth through the gunfire.
A blinding burst of energy surged as Jolur rose to his feet, body shimmering with Light. He braced himself and lobbed an orb of unstable energy that reduced the Knight to howling ash on impact.
"Appreciate the assist," Jolur said to Bask and the Warlock as he brushed dirt from his decrepit boots. "These guys are stronger than I thought, but it's nothing a Nova Bomb can't handle."
The Warlock inspected the damage to her robe. "What's going on with these Hive?"
"I don't know," Jolur said. "Lord Saladin sent a group of us down to figure out—"
Another blinding burst of energy surged nearby. The Knight rose to its feet, body shimmering with Light.
The Guardians stood frozen in horror.
"Since when can they do that?" Bask squeaked, and the fight began in earnest.
Tusked Allegiance Cloak / Mark / Bond
- "I do not sit and theologize my enemies. I crush them."
- — Empress Caiatl
The huddled Guardians fell into shocked silence as Commander Zavala's silhouette loomed over the table.
A hooded figure sat, suddenly enveloped by the shadow, and leaned backward until his head bumped against Zavala's chestplate. He tilted his chin up and craned his neck to fix Zavala with an upside-down smile.
His hood fell back. "What's with the face, Big Blue?" Drifter said. "Somebody's gotta teach 'em how to play offense."
"Get this out of my Tower." There was iron in the Titan's voice.
An old fear split Drifter's face. He leaned forward, swept the contents of the table into his knapsack—tangled cables, a red lens, shards of bone, a green eye spinning madly in a jar of thick fluid—and left without a word.