Wyrmguard Suit

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Wyrmguard Suit


Wyrmguard Suit




Wyrmguard Suit is a Legendary Armor set introduced during in Season of the Wish.[1]

Wyrmguard Helm/Hood/Mask[edit]

"Tomorrow we'll hear ourselves again."
— Helm/Hood/Mask Description

Descending the grassy sands of the Strand, Petra Venj hears the familiar roar of the Dreaming City, caught in another predictable brawl. She notes streaks of glass and scorch along the sand where dead Scorn line the beach and continues moving.

Chitin ashes away as she strides through the Gardens of Esila. She moves unhindered; travel is never easier than in the wake of a Guardian. She smiles—maybe she would meet them there.

Her spirits fade when she reaches Amrita's cave and sees no Guardian waiting. It seems they crashed through the city and left. Their attention drawn by some greater battle raging elsewhere.

Petra minds her footing as she clambers down the slick cave rock and kneels beside the Corsair. "Something for the pain?"

Corsair Amrita tries to stand, winces, and slouches back against the stone wall. "Oh, you got my distress signal?"

"I just assumed you were in distress." Petra smiles and removes a small pouch labeled "Amrita," as well as a finely carved wooden applicator. Several other named pouches dangle from her belt.

"Safe bet…" Amrita chuckles, voice trailing in soft, tense coughs, and unsteady breathing.

"Stop trying to get up." Petra whisks the contents of the pouch with the applicator, stirring an aroma of mint, aloe, and musk into the air. Amrita watches her work the mixture over. Too forceful, and the salve would separate. Too soft, and it wouldn't properly adhere or harden in the air. It was a test of consistency, attention, and discipline.

"I think… I'd just like to go now. Wake up from the beginning." Amrita doesn't look up from Petra's hands until they stop.

"Let me apply the salve." Petra reaches toward Amrita's stomach, a Hive Splinter spike still hot in her gut.

Amrita grips Petra's arm as a spasm twists her gut, voice almost a whisper. "I don't want to do this anymore, Petra." The words were stark with grit.

"I don't want you to, either," Petra says, her eyes meeting Amrita's. "But you don't have to suffer needlessly."

Petra nods to her arm.

Amrita lets go and shifts her armor off the wound. "Thank you…"

Petra smears a thick coating of salve over the burnt, cauterized flesh, which douses the spike and sooths the inflammation.

Amrita exhales and leans forward. "Go, you've spent enough time with me."

"I'll be back, sister." Petra grabs Amrita's hand and squeezes it. "We'll find a way out. Just not today."

Wyrmguard Gauntlets/Gloves/Grips[edit]

"What you asked for or your money back!"
— Gauntlets/Gloves/Grips

Patrolling with pickup fireteams isn't the greatest work, but, as Shaw likes to say, you can't let life get you down when you've got so much of it.

He picks up a mission to clear out Vex on Io. Down in caves so deep they don't even notice the Pyramid ships overhead. They barely escape in time to watch Io get swallowed by nothingness. Just gone.

All right, lesson learned. No more caves.

The next gig's on Europa, and Shaw's fireteam bails on him. They don't even try to break him out of the crystal when he gets got by Fallen playing with Stasis. It takes the whole flight home to feel warm again.

All right, lesson learned. Time to settle down. Go steady with a real team. People he can trust.

Shaw feels better as soon as he drafts the message. And while he waits for replies, the City's waiting for him, full of Light and life and everything else you can think of. Antique House of Wolves cloaks, guaranteed genuine. Vex-metal woks. Fresh baklava. And his pockets are finally full of Glimmer.

As he walks, a vendor calls out, "Bones! Let's wear some bones!"

A lizard skull stares out at Shaw from the shoulder of a gauntlet-and-pauldron set. Spikes along one forearm: real stylish. And on sale. Might be a tight fit for Shaw's guns, though.

The vendor doesn't even blink as Shaw tests his mobility right there in the stall.

Shaw thinks to himself: it's no way to live, constantly hunting down gigs. Falling into swamps or methane snowdrifts without a friend to pull him out. Always burning his pay on gear to keep up with the arms race. It'd be nice to have a steady gig. A real team. Someplace he won't get his atoms scattered weekly by the latest alien in the system with a chip on their shoulder.

He swings his arm.

Pauldron feels good. Not too tight at all. Perfect, really. Funny he ever thought otherwise.

Shaw heads back to the Tower with a spring in his step and a skull on his arm. His Ghost routes a message his way from the Vanguard network:

[CASTER-3] I saw your post looking for a steady fireteam. I think I had a dream about you? We should meet.

Yeah. Shaw's got a good feeling about this one.

Wyrmguard Plate/Vest/Robes[edit]

"It's never a fair fight. Win anyway."
Lord Shaxx

Arcite 99-40 holds the cable taut while Lord Shaxx fastens the final anchor with a few swings of a fiery hammer. When Shaxx gives the nod, Arcite tests the give, then releases the cable.

They look up at the massive, tusked skull that now looms majestically over the Crucible staging area.

The occasion has attracted a small crowd of observers: a mixed group of citizens and Guardians who murmur among themselves or simply stare, be it in awe or disapproval. Shaxx ignores them, crossing his arms and gazing up at his trophy.

"The Speaker would not approve of this," Arcite observes.

Shaxx ignores this too.

"This is a lesson, Arcite. I want these newbies to look at this and know that there's always something worse out there. Something meaner, and more powerful."

"Something like the Red Legion," Arcite supplies. A foe to catch them all unawares.

"Temptation," Shaxx corrects. "Self-destruction."

Arcite looks up again at the skull and scans it for energy signals. "And it can be killed."

Shaxx nods, satisfied. "Something always remains. But it can be killed."

Arcite picks up a faint whisper, an audio signal too faint and garbled to process into intelligible language. When he scans for it again, it's gone.

Wyrmguard Greaves/Strides/Boots[edit]

"For all evils, there are two remedies"
— Greaves/Strides/Boots Description

Report by VanNet encrypted router.]

[E-Morn//Link: NM-O01]


E-Morn: Your findings are consistent with mine. The egregore festers where the Veil touches, as if it projects a field across Sol. I could feel it when I took my tithing. Do you mean to map it?

NM-O01: I could, but the egregore only shows us where the Veil's influence has marked our plane in that past. The areas where the Veil's influence currently holds sway are not so easily identified. This does progress some working theories, however.

[Brief pause]

NM-O01: …I wish I had been there, to face Savathûn and Xivu Arath with you.

E-Morn: I would not expect you to endanger yourself.

NM-O01: Is that so?

NM-O01: How did it feel to face her?

E-Morn: Like judgment, long overdue… for a moment.

NM-O01: I was incensed to hear she was allowed to live.

E-Morn: I was not pleased either. But, if it is vengeance you crave, know that it has been exacted. I tore from Xivu Arath what she tore from you.

NM-O01: Good.

E-Morn: And Savathûn… she knows our true enemy. There will come a day when she meets your retribution as well.

NM-O01: Yes… for now, victory over vengeance.

E-Morn: It is inevitable, Osiris. She will turn on us again. And we will strike her down.

Wyrmguard Mark/Cloak/Bond[edit]

"Creation is built on secrets."
— Mark/Cloak/Bond Description

The Bazaar, atop a balcony:

Tyche-4 sips hot broth from a takeout container.

"I wish I could win just one match," Baro says to her, sagging morosely against the railing.

Tyche-4 elbows him gently. "Killing other Guardians all day isn't the only way to help the City, you know."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's been hiding from Shaxx for weeks—hey, don't laugh!"

The Annex, beneath the stairs:

"The look on their faces," Nakato says, laughing breathlessly. "Can't believe he staked that Sparrow of his. Guardians really do think they can't lose."

Her Eliksni companion makes a chuffing noise and rattles off an incomprehensible stream of words. Nakato catches "skilled" and "cheat" though, and smiles. Even the most backhanded of compliments are better than none.

"You know, you're a quick hand at cards. And everyone's throwing around Glimmer like there's no tomorrow. If you wanted to stick together a while…"

The Eliksni blinks at her, mulling it over, then nods.

Nakato grins and claps her new friend on the back. "That's the spirit. Wish I'd met you years ago."

The Hangar, within a maintenance closet:

Velibor sits hidden in the dark, wracked by helpless convulsions of grief.

"I wish they were still here." He gulps for air. "I can't do this without them."

Augur settles at her Guardian's shoulder. "You need to talk to someone, Vel—"

"I should have been there. I could have saved them. I wish I'd never let them go."

Outside the Tower offices:

A stray cat regards Dimas disdainfully from a windowsill, then resumes washing its paws.

"I wish I had a cat," Dimas exclaims. "Here, cat!"

Dimas inches closer to the indifferent feline. "It must be a good life, sitting around the Tower without worrying about Light and Dark, or much of anything at all."

The cat does not look up.

Dimas thinks for a moment.

"I wish I was a cat," he says.

A Tower sub-basement, between the stacks:

"I think that's it," Serge says. "Once we've sealed up this last one, we're done for the day."

"Not bad for an honest day's work," the frame says. It speaks in the same amiable tone of voice it applies to every statement, but Serge still finds himself smiling.

"You said it, buddy."

Serge looks on as the frame effortlessly fits the final plate of ion shielding into place. It hums as it works—a little tune Serge taught it on his second day on the job.

"The day goes by a lot faster with someone to talk to," Serge says. "Just wish you could understand me. Really understand, I mean."

"Yes," says the frame. "I wish that also."



  1. ^ Bungie (2023/11/28)