Grimoire:Enemies

The following is a list of Grimoire entries pertaining to enemies:

The Fallen
"We have butchers at our gates - four-armed and eager for slaughter."

The Fallen are ruthless scavengers. Brutal and uncaring, they arrived on their massive Ketches in the wake of the Collapse to loot and pillage our devastated worlds.

There are hints of ancient nobility to the Fallen - the scars of lost grandeur. The Kells of their scattered Houses still claim to be royalty. But they leave only grief and wreckage in their wake.

Dreg
"Don't underestimate a cutthroat, or you'll get your throat cut."

Dregs cling to the lowest rung of Fallen society. Docked of their lower arms in a ritual of humiliation and obedience, Dregs seek to prove their worth. Only a few will survive to gain promotion and regrow their limbs. Their suicidal bravery is fueled by ambition and shame.

Shank
"Death flies on tarnished wings."

Shanks are the bulldogs of the Fallen. Small and tough enough to go where Dregs won't fit, they scout, keep watch, and patrol. Fallen Walkers deploy Shanks from internal bays for tactical support and field repairs.

Vandal
"You could drown the City in the blood they've spilt."

Soldiers, brawlers, assassins, and scouts, Vandals are the seasoned regulars who fill out the skilled roles within a Fallen crew. Whether from distance or up close and personal, they are seasoned, efficient killers, with an arsenal of weaponry and tech to match their bloodlust.

Captain
"Waves of them smashed against our walls, hissing and wailing. But it was the one who stood beyond them, silent and scenting the air, that froze the blood in our veins."

Having clawed and knifed his way to the top, scattering bodies and limbs in his wake, the Captain is the strongest and most ferocious member of the crew he musters around himself. His ration of Ether is the largest, his blades the sharpest, his guns the finest. Upon his shoulders hangs the flag of his House, if he swears loyalty to any. For his crew, the slightest hesitation to comply earns a slash from his sword. Defiance results in immediate amputation, if he is in a good mood, or death, if he is not.

Servitor
"A floating light, a sleepless eye. Their hope, their faith, their sustenance."

Servitors are living relics of the once-mighty Fallen civilization. Packed with ultra-sophisticated machinery, they process matter and energy into the Ether that the Fallen depend on for life. In battle they support the Fallen with defensive systems and their own powerful energy weapons. Outside, they anchor Fallen comms and provide vital technological acumen.

Servitors have complex relationships with each other and with their Fallen crews. Servitors are attached to a Prime, a massive Servitor which exists in unclear symbiosis with a Fallen Archon. The Archon conveys the Kell's wishes to the Prime Servitor, and exerts some measure of control. Recent developments suggest that Prime Servitors are more than a focus of worship and logistical activity. They may play a key role in Fallen star flight.

House of Devils
"The Devils take whatever nature has yet to claim."

- Master Rahool

These are the scourge of the City, the shadow below our walls. This is the House that led the battle at the Twilight Gap, the House we tell our children about to frighten them into behaving.

The House of Devils have now devoted great strength to pillaging the Cosmodrome in Old Russia, hunting for something buried below. If they are not held in check, whatever they find might prove the City's undoing.

House of Exile
"They live among the Hive. Of course they're crazy."

- Cayde-6

There is more than a whiff of desolation about these Fallen. Their ranks are swollen with Dregs; their rags threadbare. Perhaps this is a new House, gathered from the outcast malcontents and disgraced castaways of the others, galvanized by pride or hate or the desire for freedom.

Be watchful. If this is true, they will surely be hungry to secure their position - and that may drive them to bold action.

House of Winter
"Their greed is as much a threat as their blades."

- Commander Zavala

The Fallen House of Winter, led by the ruthless Kell Draksis, have been found operating in and around the Ishtar Sink on Venus. Their interests there seem directed at the ruins of the Academy along the Shattered Coast, but there are concerns that their focus may, in actuality, be directed elsewhere - toward the ominous Citadel that rises like a warning above the Waking Ruins.

House of Kings
"Another great House hides among us..."

- Ikora Rey

The colors of the House of Kings are rarely seen. They act with brutal contempt, as if they hold their rivals - other Fallen and City alike - in disdain. We have yet to grasp the full measure of their strength.

House of Wolves
"These ones are mine."

- The Queen

The bulk of the House of Wolves now falls under the control of the Queen of the Reef. There are many stories of how this came to be, but they are too varied for the truth to be separated from rumor.

Ghost Fragment: Fallen
Cayde-6 Reminisces

Okay, okay, I'll tell the story about that one Fallen.

It didn't happen like that. We didn't, you know, do anything actively - no handshake, no icy stare of grudging mutual respect. I don't even know which hand you would shake. Do they shake hands? It must be complicated.

Anyway, it was like this. I was on the Moon. I cracked a Hive structure near Mare Imbrium, looking for a Shrine, and they just - swarmed. Ranks and ranks and ranks of Thrall, pouring out between the columns, but the columns were Knights, and all the shadows behind them rose up hissing sorcery.

Of course I ran.

I had a line of egress and while yes it was full of Thrall I had a backup too. I went upslope. Took cover in the shadow of a crashed Phaeton. Emptied my machine gun, ducked down to reload, and saw her at the other end of the hull, killing Thrall: a Fallen in Exile colors, bannered in the marks of a Baron, though the flags were claw-torn and stained with Hive ash. She was alone. I think she must have lost her crew.

I didn't really have time to shoot her and she didn't really have time to shoot me so we just went back to killing Hive. Knights pushed me out into the open and back up the range to a high stone saddle in the shadow of an old interferometry array. It was good ground so she came up there too.

For a while we just killed things which is hard to make interesting in a story so I'll pass it over.

At the end the Wizards came. I climbed the array to get an angle on them and she fell back to the base of the antennae where she broke her swords off in a Knight. I saw that happen and I don't know if I can tell you how I felt. She was another living thing with a mind I could understand and she hadn't howled at me or tried to eat my Ghost. I cheered when the Knight went down.

When I came down, empty on all guns, she was slumped against a bulkhead staring at me with all her tiny black eyes. Ether leaking out of her like smoke. The Knight hadn't died easily. Downslope the last Wizard moved like fire behind another line of Thrall.

I looked at her and wondered how many innocent human lives she'd ended on those broken blades.

She did the strangest thing then. Took the last shock pistol from her bandolier and threw it between us, as if to offer it. When I went to pick it up she tried to knife me, but she was slow, and when I broke her arms and opened her throat she didn't seem surprised.

To this day I wonder if she hated me, or wanted to make me kill her, or just felt she should spare me the choice.

I did kill a few Thrall with that pistol.

Ghost Fragment: Fallen 2
A ROUTINE SUMMATION OF DARLINGS WON AND HEROICALLY HELD DURING THIS PROFITABLE CYCLE, AS COMPILED BY A DREG

ammunition of rich makes, quantity adequate to incinerate 6X6 foe

11 operational weapons, alien design, suitable for salvage

3 explosive charges of obvious design, suitable for salvage

1 cabal fusion reactor, disabled but perhaps repairable

61 machines, alien, inoperable, unknown significances

13 alien machines, inoperable, known significances

3 glints

7 herealways

1103 twists of essence

15 human body parts, kept for study, scorn

55 human adornments, full of glory and warm memory, worth the cost of their acquisition and more so

some ether, quantity negligible

considerable experience in battle

4 dregs dead, rendering House of Winter weaker

1 dreg honoring self and House, leading to consideration of fabricated arms

1 disabled Fallen skiff, scrubbed of House identity and stories

1 Fallen story found beside the disabled skiff, unknown House, partly corrupted, rendered as follows:

what others call dark which is not I know what it is but no time room calm given for an appropriate telling so I say only that what is not shadow is an ally and a wonder and I respect what I cannot steal from and you cannot take from the dark you can claim only pain from the dark and that is why the dark is worthy of love beyond all other love that astonishing ability to evade being robbed

I love what I will not name

1 story, Fallen and found beneath the skiff, unknown House, story uncorrupted

subsequently the second recording has been washed away

operator error

I know what no one else knows and now I am a marvel with ten thousand arms

Ghost Fragment: Fallen 3
Ask them our name. Ask your masters what they call you. Ask the hollow, the hateful, the Awoken with alien dreams encysted in them! Ask them our name!

Fallen. They name us Fallen.

Listen to me, Wolf-born! Heed me, Whirlwind-scattered! I am the ghost of Cybele, the cunning claw of Iris, betrayed, chained, encrypted by the Queen, sent back from the Darkness to save us all! The days of Kell and House end now. The calendar of slavery and abasement goes to the fire. We are a new calendar! We are an age of beginnings! Each of us is a day!

I am the first, Kell of Kells, and I am the last, the Dreg of Dregs. I have conquered and been conquered. I am all of us and all of us are I. In the shape of my life I bind up all of us, all of our fury, all of our grief, all the lives we have wasted against each other. Together we speak our new name.

Remember the hope that brought us here. Remember the age before the Whirlwind, when ether ran free, when we ruled ourselves and our futures as kings. We wanted more than glimmer and glints and herealways. Always remember that we came to this star in hope. And remember that we were denied! Remember the City of the Death of Children, the City That Docks, which claimed for itself the Great Machine that might have saved us. Remember the City that even now sends its ghouls to murder our Primes, starve our ether, and leave our young to die gasping. Curse that City and its name. The curse is just.

We gathered to take that City and save ourselves from extinction, saying to each other, we must be a storm, a Whirlwind, a darkness, for it is said that only pain may be stolen from the dark, and we can let no more be stolen from us. We gathered to fight against our twilight, King and Devil and Winter, all of us but us, the Wolves. Why? What kept us from the Gap?

The Reef. The Queen. The slavers who played us against each other and docked us into subservience. These sly sterile un-people, these mirages with cold minds twinned to their own, these Carybdis butchers, they set us against each other. She played us. She made herself our Kell.

We were fools, o children of the Whirlwind. We fought each other when we most needed unity. I fought my rivals when I should have fought the Queen. But I remember now, my dregs, my captains, my Kells, each of us is all of us and I remember: we are a people of resilience. I am the Kell of Kells because I want what we have lost. I am the Dreg of Dregs because I remember that a dreg will grow back what is lost to him.

Ask them my name! Ask them with the shock blade and the shrapnel launcher! Ask them with the skiff and the ketch! Ask your masters by what right they master you, you who have been hardened by centuries of flight, you who inherit the Whirlwind! Ask the Queen for her throne!

Ask them our name. Let them answer: you are Skolas, Kell of Kells. You are Fallen no more.

Ghost Fragment: Fallen 4
The Scatter

This happens long ago, but not too long to matter.

Ceres rules the Asteroid Belt. Ceres is the white queen of this space, four hundred million kilometers from the Sun. Ceres is round. Round means power, out here: nothing else in the Belt is big enough to crush itself into a sphere with its own gravity. Ceres has its own chemical stars. Shavings of salt and ice that glint in orbit. Like a crown.

There are other lights, newer stars, newer crowns. Warship engines. Another queen is coming to conquer Ceres, because Ceres is full of warrens and shipyards and habitats, because Ceres is round and lucky as a Servitor. Because Ceres is full of the Wolves she wants to rule.

Shark-fierce ships gather in squadrons and tribes. Skiffs. Ketches. The Kell of Wolves has a fleet gathered here. The Kell of Wolves heard the call, and summoned the House of Wolves to prepare for the great battle on Earth. The salvation of the Kell's people depends on their ability to shatter the City. It's a matter of survival.

Now the Wolf fleet turns to meet the Queen.

See the squadrons of Skiffs wrapping themselves in stealth, cold and transparent, knifing out invisible and brave? See the Ketches like broad blades, the bright thoughts of a Servitor guiding them to battle? See them turning, accelerating, waking up their jammers and their arc guns? All doomed. The Kell of Wolves will never make it to the Twilight Gap. The Kell of Wolves put all that strength in one place, and now the Queen of the Reef is coming to break it.

Out there, coming out of the dark, are the Awoken. Not so great a fleet, is it? Little fighters scattered around like four-pointed thorns. Destroyers and frigates and salvaged hulls pulled out of the Reef. And right at the front, at the speartip, flies the Queen.

The Wolf Kell, practical, brave, tallies strength of metal and equipment. The Kell considers the chance that the Awoken have some secret weapon, something gleaned from hulks in the Reef or whispered up by the witches, and sets that chance aside. The Kell thinks the House of Wolves can win decisively. So the Kell sends challenge and warning. I AM LORD OF WOLVES, the Kell sends. YOU ARE AN EMPTY THING WITH TWO DEAD SOULS. THIS IS MY HOUSE. THESE ARE MY TERMS. SURRENDER AND I WILL ONLY TAKE YOUR SHIPS.

The Awoken fleet cuts their engines. Drifts. Wolf strike elements, torpedo-armed Skiffs hidden under jamming and camouflage, find their firing solutions.

The Queen's ship broadcasts. I AM NOBLE TOO, she says, OH LORD OF WOLVES.

The Kell doesn't mind a little banter before the kill. It gives the Wolf ships longer to draw the battle away from Ceres. The Kell replies. YOU HAVE NO LINE. YOU HAVE NO POWER. Captains and Barons signal their readiness, Skolas and Pirsis and Irxis, Drevis, Peekis, Parixas, all of them bound by fear and loyalty, all ready for war.

STARLIGHT WAS MY MOTHER. The Queen's ship whispers in eerie erratic radio bursts. Servitors begin to report a strange taste in the void. AND MY FATHER WAS THE DARK.

Here, at last, too late, the Kell begins to feel fear. CALL ON THEM, THEN, the Kell sends, one last mocking signal before death and ruin, AND SEE WHAT HELP THEY OFFER.

So the Queen calls, as only she can. Every Servitor in every Ketch hears it. Every Captain and Baron roars at their underlings as sensors go blind, as firing solutions falter, as reactors stutter and power systems hum with induction. Stealth fails. Space warps. The House of Wolves shouts in spikes of war-code, maneuvers wild, fires blind.

Behind the Queen's ship, the Harbingers awaken.

Shock Pistol
The Shock Pistol is a simple but deadly weapon, and a mainstay of the Fallen arsenal. Primarily utilized by the lower ranking members of a given Fallen crew, Shock Pistols discharge bolts of Arc energy.

Shock Rifle
Although based on the same Arc technology as other Fallen weaponry, this rifle has a distinct advantage: the projectiles it fires track unerringly to the target. The exact mechanism behind this is unclear, but the rifle seems to steer the slow-moving molten projectile down an artificial field line.

Shrapnel Launcher
The Shrapnel Launcher is a simple, effective, robust weapons system that the Fallen can build without risking vital resources.

The weapon fires loose-forged canisters of explosives and shrapnel down electromagnetic rails embedded in the barrel. Captains favor this weapon for its intimidating presence. It deals Solar damage.

Wire Rifle
The Wire Rifle utilizes shock cores to charge thin wires of an exotic metal, converting them into Arc-infused molten shards with an extraordinary muzzle velocity.

Shock Dagger
The Shock Dagger is a deadly combination of stun gun and knife. Composed of a lightweight metal and powered by a small Arc charge, the Shock Dagger is capable of cutting through armor and delivering a staggering jolt of electricity. The Fallen use them for every purpose imaginable, from light metalwork to hand-to-hand combat.

Shock Blade
These full-length edged weapons gather Arc energy from a system of shock cores and charging caps in the hilt, converting the entire length of the blade into a plasma cutting torch.

Brutally efficient in the hands of a skilled Captain, Shock Blades are not ceremonial weapons built for show. Guardians would do well to respect the threat they present.

Shock Grenade
The Shock Grenade is a simple, effective Fallen weapon. The core of the device is a shock core encased in an induction motor. Once activated, an Arc charge builds in the core until it reaches critical mass, starting a chain reaction that ends with a devastating explosion.

Skiff
Slipping out of stealth only to offload a crew of Fallen, the Skiff is rarely seen. On the other hand, its rumbling, booming arrival is difficult to miss - as are the weapons it uses to support its troop deployments.

Pike
A Pike looks and sounds like rusted junk but moves like a shark. Lightning crackles in the engine, which can accelerate to fantastic speed. Twin guns mow down infantry. The Fallen deploy Pikes as high-speed harassers and patrol vehicles.

Walker
Fallen Walkers are mobile gun platforms deployed in offensive and defensive roles alike. Though their insect-like design gives them an eerie, almost lifelike quality, these heavily-armored monstrosities are purely robotic. Their advanced tracking systems can account for multiple targets as their forward repeaters and massive main gun sweep the battlefield for threats. Mine dispensers provide close defense against dismounted infantry, and an on-board Shank foundry produces armed repair drones.

Walkers are immediate and deadly threats, having ended the Light of countless Guardians. The Fallen do not hesitate to deploy them to provide overwatch for their salvage and extraction crews. Walkers are also commonly used as blocking forces to guard key Fallen assets. At the Battle of Twilight Gap, Walkers engaged in a thunderous artillery duel with the City's gun positions.

The collected wisdom of battle-hardened Guardians suggests Walkers can be beaten by focusing fire on the legs, overloading the Walker and rendering its armored core briefly vulnerable. When the Walker stumbles, Guardians should focus all available firepower on the exposed components beneath the neck plating. Some externally mounted weapons can also be disabled with precise fire.

Heavy Pike
The Heavy Pike is a Fallen combat and demolitions vehicle. Unlike the standard assault Pike, the weightier Heavy Pikes are equipped with high-caliber twin-nose cannons and dual expel ports to either side that launch explosive devices.

Heavy Pikes should be considered a clear and definite danger when encountered in the wilds. However, should a Guardian, or Guardians, find occasion to utilize the Heavy Pike to their own ends, such behavior is highly encouraged.

Web Mines
The Fallen have a variety of tricks up their many sleeves. The Web Mine is proximity or impact triggered snare device that releases a tangle of "heavy" arc energy, causing spatial disruption within its sphere of influence.

The Web Mine's triggering mechanism ejects the physical mine into the air where it detonates its "Web" field. The triggering mechanism and mine can both be destroyed with focused fire.

Scorch Cannon
Scorch Cannons are shoulder-mounted heavy impact weapons used by the Fallen for hull-puncturing in ship-to-ship raiding parties.

The Scorch Cannon uses a compressed Solar "furnace" to focus and direct superheated rods of solar energy. Each burst is mapped to the Cannon's firing matrix, allowing the wielder to hold a fired rod's charge. Release of the firing actuator triggers detonation. The longer the actuator is held the greater the rod's explosive impact.

Riksis, Devil Archon
"The Archons are the links between the Fallen and their Servitors. We break those links, we break the Fallen."

Archons are revered amongst the Fallen. It is unknown whether these high priests are the caretakers of the Prime Servitors, or simply vicious arbiters of the Primes' will.

Riksis collects the skulls of dead Guardians. Whether he keeps them as trophies or presents them as offerings to whatever Prime he serves, his threat is very real, and his death will bring great joy to a City in need of hope.

Simiks-3
"Its thirst for knowledge was left unquenched for so long, its death will almost be considered a tragedy."

Simiks-3 was born of Winter's Prime Servitor, rumored to have been destroyed long ago. From readings gathered during the battle, it appears Simiks-3 was uniquely equipped to process and store huge amounts of intel between itself and a chain of nearby Servitors.

Draksis, Winter Kell
"The architect of Winter's strategy. And he still shows his strength on the front line."

- Commander Zavala

Draksis, Kell of the Wintership Simiks-fel, has been an elusive target for the Vanguards. After his countless raids on jumpship reclamation convoys, Cayde-6 personally upped the bounty on him. With confirmed sightings of the Kell in the Ishtar Sink, the time to strike is now.

Defeating Draksis could throw Winter into chaos. With Simiks Prime allegedly already lost, the House leadership would be gutted - although proof of the Servitor's demise remains elusive.

Sepiks Prime
"I never believed a machine could know hatred."

Floating, emotionless arbiters of life and death, Servitors are quasi-religious automata defended by the Fallen with zealous ferocity.

The exalted Servitor of the Fallen House of Devils, Sepiks Prime, has long been rumored to dwell deep within the bowels of the Cosmodrome. While the Kells are the political leaders of the Fallen, Servitors are said to be their gods - and the source of their life-sustaining ether. A Prime Servitor is a target worthy of even the greatest sacrifice. Those willing to accept such a challenge will have the eternal gratitude of a City desperate for relief.

Sepiks Prime relies on fanatical reinforcements and its own considerable tactical abilities - including a short-range teleport and a powerful directed energy weapon. Aim for the eye, and break contact if it turns your way.

Aksor, Archon Priest
A disciple of the Prime Servitor Kaliks, Aksor initiated brutal crusades against human settlements beyond the City and ravaged countless Awoken enclaves throughout the Reef. When the Queen waged her war against the Wolves, Aksor was taken alive and sealed into the infamous Prison of Elders.

Killing Aksor before he can join the ranks of the House of Winter weakens the Fallen, strengthens ties to the Reef, and brings the City one step closer to gaining a solid foothold along the Shattered Coast.

The Silent Fang
Commanded by the fearsome Drevis, Wolf Baroness, the Silent Fang are a unit of elite stealth warriors and assassins. Instrumental in Skolas' rise to kellship among the Wolves, the Silent Fang also menaced the Queen during the Reef War. It was Drevis and the Silent Fang who razed Amethyst, and then tricked the Queen's Armada at the Battle of Iris. Though the Silent Fang suffered a serious blow when Drevis was finally thrown in the Prison of Elders after the Siege of Pallas, they continued to threaten the Queen's forces until the war's end.

Paskin, King Baron
Hull of Crows

Prince Uldren: Look at it from the House of Kings' perspective. Their power is matched only by their cleverness. They rule the Devils from the shadows and came too close to toppling the City not once, but twice. We don't know much about them, but we know this: the Kings want the Traveler.

So why would they give it all up just because some outsystem Wolf runs in calling himself Kell of Kells?

The answer is: they wouldn't.

Petra Venj: But what if Skolas could somehow prove to them that he's the prophesied leader? Some artifact, or trick?

Yasmin Eld: Perhaps a new power, even.

Prince Uldren: No. Short of the Traveler itself calling Skolas by name, the Kings would not just roll over for anyone, no matter what. They're too ambitious.

Petra Venj: You sound like you admire them.

Prince Uldren: Power cleverly deployed is always worth admiring.

Yasmin Eld: So why send the King Barons?

Yavek, Wolf Baron
"Serve him; he is Kell of Kells."

Yavek was a minor lieutenant of Skolas' during the Reef Wars who evaded capture after the Cybele Uprising. After Skolas returned to the House of Wolves, he named Yavek a Baron to reward his loyalty, and sent him to Earth to be his negotiator with the Houses of Kings and Devils.

Vekis, King Baron
Hull of Crows

Prince Uldren: Of the Kell of Kings, we know nothing. Wherever, whoever it is, it remains hidden, even when the so-called Kell of Kells comes to its borders. Instead, it sends just two Barons: Paskin and Vekis.

Yasmin Eld: What do we have on them?

Petra Venj: Should I issue bounties on them?

Prince Uldren: No, you do not see. Perhaps if we wait, Paskin and Vekis will do our work for us.

Yasmin Eld: You believe Paskin and Vekis are not ambassadors?

Prince Uldren: I am sure of it.

Shuro Chi: Be certain, my prince, that your assessment is free of personal bias.

Prince Uldren: What are you suggesting, Shuro?

Taniks, the Scarred
"It is the lone wolf, once cornered, who has the worst bite."

Taniks, the Scarred, a mercenary known for the theft of Aksor from the Prison of Elders and the murder of Hunter Vanguard Andal Brask, sells his services to any Fallen House willing to pay the right price. It is believed by the Fallen that he is undying, a living huntsman whose physical self is joined with a mix of technologies, each pilfered from legendary treasure troves. But treasure is not the only currency of value to Taniks. His true ambitions rest in the challenge of the feats in front of him, and the rewards simply allow him to exist free of any Kell's rule.

Skolas: Captured
Variks keeps a ragged piece of armor in his pod. It's human tech, Golden Age. Shattered in some ancient battle, pre-Collapse, and left to drift. He found it and he brought it to his quarters so he could sit on it. It's nothing like a throne. Variks doesn't want a throne.

He sits on his ancient shrapnel, unmasked, and whittles at an amethyst with the dead edge of a shock dagger. Music plays (something ancient, pre-Whirlwind, beautiful). The ether in the air is rich and it fills him up with strength. Skolas has been captured, mad Skolas who would have ruined everything. Variks should be happy. He's not. With his little knife and his two arms and his stolen shining thing he feels like a Dreg. He feels ashamed.

He betrayed Skolas twice. At Cybele, and again, now. He will betray Skolas' dream ten times more. Variks will never be strong like Skolas, big like Skolas, a leader like Skolas. Variks will work for the Queen, oversee the Prisons, watch his fellow Fallen (they are Fallen, it's a good name now) fight and die as gladiators who want nothing except a chance to hurt Guardians. Even Skolas.

He tried to use the Vex, word has it. He tried to use their machines. Has that ever worked for anyone? Maybe one. Maybe a few: the Osiris cultists are Variks' favorite people. Maybe that's how you survive this alien star where dead gods slumber and dead heroes walk. You cozy up to powers you barely understand and make yourself useful, or at least inoffensive. You become a parasite, a scavenger, a servant.

That's dreg strength. That's the strength that keeps Variks alive. It's nothing to be ashamed of.

Skolas: Defeated
Skolas is dead.

Variks sits carving at his piece of amethyst. His undocked arms are weaker, less precise, but it is a comfort to feel the crystal press hard into his palm. The knife slips. He cuts himself. "Ai," he says, and of course right then the door opens, Variks has no privacy, Variks wants no privacy, Variks lives to serve the Queen.

It's Petra Venj. She's masked against the ether air. "The Prince wants to speak," she says, and then, seeing him unmasked and bleeding, she chuckles. Petra depends on Variks for intelligence and Variks, frustrated with her insane risk-taking and bravado, sometimes gives her tips meant to get her killed. Petra has figured this out. Petra and Variks know each other's agendas and each other's strengths and to Variks that's as close as any two people can get. Petra is smart: she sends Guardians now, people who can die as much as they like.

"You slipped," she says.

Variks holds up the amethyst in his bleeding hand. It's a Reef gem. "I wound myself," he says, "to make this more beautiful."

She stares into the gem with a distant Awoken eye. What does she see? Variks knows she has visions and he knows those visions haunt her, drive her. The Awoken are twinned to powers that terrify Variks. He'd dock himself again before he'd let the Queen's witches near him, the witches who raised Petra.

The unfairness of it makes him want to roar. Why does everyone else have this patronage? Why do the Hive have gods and the Vex have sprawling time-bent minds and the Cabal have reinforcements? Why do the Awoken whisper to the stars and listen for the whisper back, the voices from the Jovians, the song in the dark? Why do the Guardians get the Great Machine's blessing, was it like that before the Whirlwind, were there Fallen heroes crowned in Ghosts who strode the battlefield fearless and full of Light? Why do they tell stories about reclaiming the lost glory of humanity, and no stories about the lost glory of Variks' people, the House of Judgment that once kept codes of dignity and law?

Why can't the Fallen have that strength? But no, that strength is not for them, not for Variks. Just this bleeding, sad pragmatism. Just dreg strength. Hanging on.

The alternative is Skolas' strength, fighting together, raging against extinction. Look where that's gotten the species. The House of Devils' Prime is dead. The House of Winter's leadership devastated. The poor Exiles trying to claw out some security against the Hive. In the last few years the Fallen have lost so much—and everything is escalating around them. There are gods and powers converging on this system, old machines waking up, old bones whispering flatteries. They need a new way.

"Put your mask on," Petra says. "The Prince gets sullen if he's kept waiting."

"Not like us," Variks says, oh so mild. The wound on his hand will heal. His work in the Prison of Elders, setting up trial by combat, building an audience and a relationship with the Reef's scavengers and armories, will bring him a little closer towards rebuilding the House of Judgment. Skolas' fury has guttered out. The Fallen may yet accept peaceful, lawful rule. They may yet survive. They'll hang on. "We're very patient, yes?"

Petra looks down on him with pity and contempt and a strange fondness.

He puts on his mask.

Pilot Servitor
"Pilots once mapped the stars. Skolas turned them into weapons."

Pilot Servitors were not typically utilized as combatants in Fallen battle plans. Their purpose was manning the flight of various Fallen ships, from crew transports to massive war-barges.

During the Reef Wars, however, Skolas crafted brutal new tactics to inflict maximum destruction upon the Awoken, including suicide attacks led by Pilot Servitors.

With the wounds of the Reef Wars renewed by the House of Wolves' betrayal, the Queen no longer abides their presence in her Reef.

Kaliks Reborn
"This machine is no God... But given fervent worship even a shell can transcend."

Kit-bashed using parts and pieces of lesser Servitors, Kaliks Reborn is fueled by servants so loyal to the rule of the long-lost Kaliks Prime that they would sacrifice their own ether to the last fume.

Kaliks Reborn is seen by these devout prisoners as the resurrection of their Prime. With a Kaliks to serve, the Fallen may rally, the Wolves may gain new strength. Or worse, a new House may rise—a House blinded by faith and hungry to be seen as equal.

WANTED: Skolas, Kell of Kells
STATUS: Unknown, Unconfirmed; INTEL REQUIRED

The Maraid, Book VII, Chapter 10

Abstract: The transmission was broadcasted on all Fallen frequencies. Lacking, at the time, the ability to crack Fallen encryptions, the Master of Crows could discern only that the Fallen Houses were all talking to each other. That was a thing that had never happened before.

Then the Techeuns looked Earthward—and saw the Fallen there becoming bolder. Tactics suggested they were planning a massive attack. We had no interplanetary arrays—no way to warn Earth. We thought we would be able to do nothing but watch.

But then the Wolves arrived from the Jovians. Their army was hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions strong: a dark wave that washed over the Reef, rushing toward the Earth. As soon as we saw them it was clear that if the Wolves reached Earth, the City would fall.

Seemingly oblivious to our existence, the bulk of the Wolf fleet stopped to regroup at Ceres. The Queen's decision was this: attack the House of Wolves, thereby saving Earth but revealing the Reef's presence to any and all enemies in the quadrant; or remain silent, preserving the Reef's invisibility but allowing the City to perish.

Her Harbingers ripped into Ceres, destroying the asteroid and killing Virixas, Kell of Wolves and more than half his House. The remaining Wolves scattered, burrowing deep into the Belt for cover. There, new claimants to the Kellship quickly arose: Irxis, Wolf Baroness; Parixas, the Howling; and Skolas, the Rabid.

WANTED: Wolf Pack
"Wolf Pack" is our name for 'em. Skolas' entourage—the ones closest to him. We hurt any one of them, we hurt Skolas.

WANTED: Any and all high-ranking members of Skolas' inner circle, a.k.a. "The Wolf Pack"

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath.

Wanted for: Treachery and high treason against the Queen; sedition; war crimes; evading justice

Description: - Fallen Class: Vandals, Captains - Stealth camouflage - Weapon: Shrapnel Launcher

Affiliations: Skolas

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Beltrik, the Veiled
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 7

Abstract: Finally, Beltrik, the Veiled left the Hildians and massed his fleet at Fortuna, to replenish his ketches' Ether from the organic compounds found on the asteroid's surface. His ships landed on Fortuna one at a time, the rest forming a defensive screen around its surface. He believed that Paladin Zire would attack the screen and destroy her fleet against the shield wall.

But Abra Zire's fury over the Battle of False Tidings had chilled over the years into an icy, clever resolve. She separated her forces in two, and engaged Beltrik's veil with what he thought was her entire host. But in secret, Abra deployed her second fleet with a weapon the Reef had been working on since Bamberga: Carybdis, a gravity weapon strong enough to knock asteroids off course. Carybdis caught asteroid Tinette in its beam and flung it into Fortuna, destroying both and severely damaging Beltrik's fleet. Beltrik was easily captured in the ensuing chaos, and brought swiftly to the Queen. The fight became known as the Fortuna Plummet, as are, on occasion, the remains of Fortuna and Tinette as well.

After the Fortuna Plummet, one of Prince Uldren's Crows returned with a message from a Fallen, by the name of Variks, of the House of Judgment.

WANTED: Drevis, Wolf Baroness
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 4

Abstract: After a string of defeats—at Amethyst, at Hygiea, arguably at Iris—Prince Uldren's Crows finally made headway against the Wolves' encryption. They quickly discovered a seemingly unimportant piece of information: the House of Wolves had incorrectly calculated the eccentricity of the asteroid Bamberga.

So Paladin Imogen Rife chased Drevis, Wolf Baroness, directly into Bamberga's trajectory. Drevis' ketch was destroyed, and both she and her High Servitor, Kaliks-4, were captured.

It was the first decisive Reef victory since the Scatter. But on her way back to Vesta with her captives, Paladin Rife was attacked at Pallas.

WANTED: Grayor, Wolf Assassin
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 3

Abstract: With Skolas and Parixas still fighting, no one expected either to attack the Reef. So by the time Paladin Abra Zire arrived at Amethyst it was too late: the Silent Fang, led by Drevis herself had massacred almost everyone in the station, including Coven Leader Pinar Venj.

Paladin Zire gave chase, and followed the Fang to Iris, where, behind the glare of Iris' brightness, a Wolf ketch lay in wait. But the ketch was no match for Zire's smaller, faster ships, or her ferocity.

When the Battle of Iris was over, however, it was not Drevis at Zire's' feet. It was Parixas.

Grayor, another of Skolas' loyal vassals, had attacked Parixas' ketch at the same time that Drevis had attacked Amethyst. He, too, had lured Parixas to Iris, then the Silent Fang had used Iris' unusual brightness to disappear just as Zire and Parixas arrived in the system.

WANTED: Kaliks-12
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 8

Abstract: In desperation, Skolas personally led an all-out assault on the military fortress of Cybele. Little did he know that the Queen knew of his plans, thanks to the word of Variks of the House of Judgment. No sooner had Skolas' ketches arrived at the asteroid than all four Armada Paladins—Abra Zire, Kamala Rior, Leona Bryl and Hallam Fen—caught him in a pincer movement. Kaliks-12, the High Servitor of Skriviks, the Sharp-Eyed, tried to escape, but Abra Zire chased it down.

Skolas' Cybele Uprising had failed. He, Skriviks, Kaliks-12 and the rest of his leaders were cast into the Queen's prison. The Reef Wars were effectively over.

WANTED: Mecher Orbiks-11
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 1

After the Scatter, the frontrunner for the Kellship was Irxis, Wolf Baroness. While Skolas and Parixas scrambled over the Kaliks servitors, Irxis secured the command of the Orbiks servitors.

Their history is still unclear, but the Orbiks originate with either another Fallen house—perhaps one that the Wolves absorbed long ago—or a modification of the Kaliks servitors. Either way, the Orbiks servitors held permissions on Kaliks servitors, which allowed Irxis to wreak havoc among her rivals' forces at the start of the Reef Wars.

WANTED: Peekis, the Disavowed
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 2

Abstract: What Peekis' assault lacked in finesse it made up for in sheer numbers and desperation. Irxis' ketches were pinned against Eos, and the two sides engaged in the bloody, bitter battle known as the Eos Clash, which left Irxis dead and both fleets nearly decimated. In the aftermath, the Crows salvaged one Orbiks servitor, Mecher Orbiks-11, believed to be the last of its programming.

Though technically a victory for Skolas, the Eos Clash came at a terrible cost for him. He docked Peekis' arms and demoted him to Dreg as punishment for his recklessness.

After the Eos Clash, Skolas changed his strategy.

WANTED: Pirsis, Pallas-Bane
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 6

Abstract: Weksis' attack may have been unsuccessful, but it inspired another, deadlier assault. This time Pirsis, the Bane of Pallas herself led another strike, blasting through the same Athens Hull breach that Weksis had weakened in his assault.

Pirsis' strike team managed to free Kaliks-4, but Paladin Imogen Rife cut them off outside Drevis' cell. Pirsis might have escaped, but she refused to retreat without Drevis. Paladin Rife destroyed Kaliks-4 to prevent the Wolves from recovering it, and eventually the Wolves were forced back—but not before Pirsis slew Paladin Rife with her own blade.

Finally, Commander Hallam Fen, Imogen Rife's protégé, was able to establish a line of communication with the rest of the Reef. Working with the Techeuns and the Crows, they created an enormous visual illusion of the Harbingers, making it seem as if the Queen had finally decided to cut her losses and destroy the asteroid. It worked—the false Harbingers so scared the Wolf fleet that they broke ranks. Then the combined forces of Commander Fen, Paladin Leona Bryl and Paladin Kamala Rior slammed, capturing Pirsis, Pallas-Bane and driving the rest of the Wolves off.

Hallam Fen brought Drevis to Vesta, years after Imogen Rife had set out to do so. As a reward for his service, the Queen bequeathed him Rife's place among the Seven Paladins.

WANTED: Saviks, Queenbreaker
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 9

Abstract: Variks of the House of Judgment declared Queen Mara Sov the new Kell of Wolves, and advised those captured at Cybele to serve her. The first among these to pledge their loyalty to the Queen was one called Saviks, who was given the honor of serving in the Queen's throne room, to the right of the Queen herself.

[See Book IX, Chapter 3, subsection "The Queenbreakers."]

WANTED: Skoriks, Archon-Slayer
HULL OF CROWS — > VESTIAN OUTPOST VENTRIS CYPHER ROOT9

Nothing good, I'm afraid.

Frankly, I’m surprised at the amount of support Skolas has secured this time around. He was never this popular before his capture. The only dissenter among their ranks appears to be one named Skoriks, called Archon-Slayer. He earned that nickname in just the way you'd expect, though we're not yet sure of his motivation. The most recent report shows Skoriks fleeing the House of Wolves. He appears to be heading for Luna.

My recommendation: Enemies of enemies aren't always friends. Snip the loose string. Perhaps one of your new pet Guardians might handle it.

If you need anything else, you know where to find me. And if you don't—I'll find you.

WANTED: Veliniks, the Ravenous
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 10

Abstract: Though many Wolves knelt to the Queen, some refused to admit the war was over. A group of Wolves rallied under the banner of a new would-be Kell: Veliniks, called the Ravenous.

But before Veliniks could strike at the Reef, the Reef struck at him: Lieutenant Petra Venj, a Corsair who had served under Paladin Abra Zire during the Hildian Campaign, hunted down and captured Veliniks.

WANTED: Weksis, the Meek
STATUS: Escaped from the Prison of Elders; AT LARGE

The Maraid, Book VIII, Chapter 5

Abstract: Under Skolas' vassal Pirsis, called Pallas-Bane, the Wolves amassed the largest Wolf fleet that had been seen since the Scatter. The Queen could not use her Harbingers against them—if she did, Imogen Rife and her fleet and all the people of Pallas would have been killed as well.

For years the siege endured. At first, neither side dared to attack the other: on Pallas, Paladin Rife knew that Pirsis had the firepower to destroy the asteroid. Above Pallas, Pirsis held back, hoping to rescue Drevis and Kaliks-4 and the other Wolves that Paladin Rife had captured at the Battle of Bamberga's Wrath. The Queen sought to diffuse the siege by sending Armada Paladins Abra Zire and Kamala Rior into the Hildian Asteroids, where Skolas was rumored to be hiding, but with the help of his tactician Beltrik, the Veiled, Skolas thwarted them.

The stalemate over Pallas was broken by, of all beings, a dreg. Ironically dubbed Weksis the Meek, the dreg led dozens of followers in an unsanctioned attack on Pallas. They managed to blast a hole in the Athens Hull, but were stopped soon after by Commander Hallam Fen. Weksis and the surviving followers were imprisoned alongside those they had come to save.

WANTED: Ether Runner
''The Ether Runners are the Servitors are in charge of Ether resupplies. Take out one, you put the hurt on multiple Fallen crews.''

WANTED: Any and all Ether Runner Servitors of the House of Wolves

SHOOT TO KILL OR DISMANTLE

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Affiliations: Skolas, Kaliks servitors, Orbiks servitors

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: High Servitor
''Honestly, we don't understand their sentience, but they're of high value to the Fallen. Treat them as strategic infrastructure that needs scrapping.''

WANTED: Any and all High Servitors of the House of Wolves

SHOOT TO KILL OR DISMANTLE

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Affiliations: Skolas, Kaliks Servitors, Orbiks Servitors

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Howling Raider
''Got wind of a Fallen gang calling themselves the Howling Raiders. They seem a bit too interested in the Ishtar libraries, you ask me.''

WANTED: Any and all members of the Howling Raiders.

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Wanted for: War crimes; pillage; theft; evading justice

Last Seen: Ishtar Collective, Venus

Description: - Fallen Class: Vandal

Affiliations: Skolas

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Queenbreaker Captain
They wear the name "Queenbreaker" like a badge of honor; but we'll show them that it's a stain, a target—an indelible mark for death.

WANTED: Any and all traitorous Wolf Captains known as Queenbreakers.

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Wanted for: Treachery and high treason against the Queen of the Reef

Description: - Weapon: Shock Blade

Affiliations: Skolas, Saviks

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Queenbreaker Vandal
''Every sordid Wolf that skulked out of the Reef alive will become a trophy—a testament to the Queen's Wrath. Her Grace will see justice done.''

WANTED: Any and all traitorous Wolf Vandals known as Queenbreakers.

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath; first claim to spoils

Wanted for: Treachery and high treason against the Queen of the Reef

Description: - Weapon: Wire Rifle

Affiliations: Skolas, Saviks

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Repeater Shank
''Shank-hunting is like pulling weeds. No sport in it—it just needs doing.''

WANTED: Repeater-equipped Wolf Shank

SHOOT TO KILL OR DISMANTLE

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Affiliations: Skolas, Kaliks Servitors, Orbiks Servitors

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Silent Fang
''Drevis's assassins are filthy, crafty things. Find them before they find you, or you'll never see 'em coming.''

WANTED: Any and all members of the House of Wolves identified as the Silent Fang.

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Wanted for: Treachery and high treason against the Queen; terrorist activities (to wit: the Raze of Amethyst); war crimes (to wit: Battle of Iris); evading justice

Description: - Stealth camouflage - Weapon: Shrapnel Launcher - Fallen Class: Captains

Affiliations: Skolas, Drevis

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Tracer Shank
''Seems like the Fallen have an endless supply of these floating death-machines. No matter. Anything they spit out, we'll toss right back.''

WANTED: Wolves long-range Tracer Shank

SHOOT TO KILL OR DISMANTLE

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Affiliations: Skolas, Kaliks servitors, Orbiks servitors

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Twisted Claw
''Gangs like the Twisted Claw are where the Fallen put Vandals who are too independent to take orders, but too talented to simply dock. So long as they bring intel and a cut of the profits back to the Kell, the Twisted Claw can do whatever they want.''

WANTED: Any and all members of the Twisted Claw.

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath; first claim to spoils

Wanted for: War crimes; pillage; theft; evading justice

Description: - Fallen Class: Vandals, Captains - Weapon: Shrapnel Launcher

Affiliations: Skolas

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Wolf Enforcer
''Kells tend to have a short half-life. When things get contentious, would-be Kells lean on their Enforcers to make sure the rank and file are serving the right side of a fight.''

WANTED: Any and all traitorous Wolf Captains known as Wolf Enforcers

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Wanted for: Treachery and high treason against the Queen of the Reef; sedition; war crimes;

Description: - Weapon: Wire Rifle

Affiliations: Skolas, Saviks

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Wolf Scavenger
These dregs are often the Wolves' front lines—scoping out new territory, scavenging materials, killing anything they come across.

WANTED: Any and all "Wolf Scavengers"

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Wanted for: Treachery and high treason against the Queen; evading justice

Description: - Fallen Class: Dregs - Weapon: Shrapnel Launcher

Affiliations: Skolas, Beltrik

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

WANTED: Wolves' Guard
The Guards are handpicked from birth, stuffed full of Ether to make them strong and brainwashing to make them unthinkingly loyal to the Kell.

WANTED: Any and all members of the House of Wolves known as the Wolves' Guard.

Bounty: 100 Marks, Queen's Wrath

Wanted for: Treachery and high treason against the Queen; sedition; war crimes; evading justice

Description: - Fallen Class: Captains - Weapon: Scorch Cannons

Affiliations: Skolas, Beltrik, Skriviks

Bring proof of kill to PETRA VENJ, Vestian Outpost (5560 Amytis)

The Hive
"There are nightmares rising from the shadows, and they hunger for our dying hope."

The Hive are an ancient, festering evil. Their antipathy to the Light transcends hatred. To the Hive, the eternal struggle between Light and Dark is not only a war, it is a crusade - all Light must be devoured so Darkness can reclaim the universe.

Thrall
"The shadows have claws."

Feral and fearless, Thrall are a plague upon the battlefield. Their swarming, twisted frames are driven by unfettered rage. Of all the terrors born of the Hive's vile will, they are the basest.

Acolyte
"Belief is a powerful weapon."

It would be a mistake to view the Hive's Acolytes as foot soldiers, because the Hive is not merely an army, it is a dark force rising. It is belief and horror, and its Acolytes are its instruments, hungry to commit the atrocities that will drive their own ascension.

Knight
"It put up a hand and swallowed the rocket with a wall of shadow."

A roaring, striding fortress, the Knight is the Hive's foremost and most zealous defender. Centuries of battle have toughened the bony protrusions on its body into an armor as hard as relic iron - a defense only strengthened by the Hive magic that Knights use to summon shields of burning force.

Ogre
"Its gaze shattered the rock, and then it smashed the rock to powder."

Charged with Hive sorcery, Ogres are abominations of flesh and rage, unleashed from the deepest Hive tunnels as engines of destruction. Apocryphal lore suggests that Ogres undergo terrible transformations as they grow - agonizing rituals that gift them with might and cunning.

Wizard
"The only word for what we saw is sorcery."

The Wizard is the scalpel with which the Hive vivisect the universe. A nightmare of rag and bone, the Wizard conceals herself within darkness and fire, dissecting and experimenting on anything that falls into her clutches.

The Hidden Swarm
"Mind the cracks and crevices of the Moon. There is an army in their shadows."

- Ikora Rey

Boiling from the wounded surface of the Moon, the Hidden Swarm is the Hive's outermost line of defense - a numberless legion that repels intruders before they breach the temples and shrines of the vast Hive fortress.

Spawn of Crota
"Crota's spawn will snuff out the worlds of Light, and Oryx's coming shall be unfettered."

- Osiris

The heralds of a dark future, led by the champion of a long-forgotten king. Crota and his legions once banished us from our own Moon. Now we fear they are rising again to claim Earth.

Blood of Oryx
"They are the shadow of an unknown master, harbingers of a power beyond anything we've faced."

- Master Rahool

Research into the cyphers and runes of the Hive leads the Cryptarchs to believe the Hive sects all serve one great master. The Blood of Oryx are feared to be the direct servants of this dark lord. The name Oryx appears too many times in Hive rituals to be ignored.

Ghost Fragment: Hive
We were overwhelmed. I could not save mine, so I have hidden myself where I might be found by the others, if they even survive. There is most likely no possibility of my return to the City. I prepare here in summary the knowledge so painfully won by my Guardian and our fireteam.

The Moon has been geoengineered into an impregnable fortress, designed to support a vast number of - creatures - if any mind could be evil enough to create them. Are they alive? They move, they shriek, they fall upon us in ravenous waves. But I see death, decay, and corruption, not life. We discovered, to our sorrow, one massive set of gates. There are likely more.

We met a towering monster, wielding a sword of utter darkness. The Light only made it hungry. We tried to fight, and we fell. Too many times to remember.

We were all brave, I assure you. May the Light find Guardians capable of facing this monstrosity, or I fear the Moon may be lost to us forever.

Ghost Fragment: Hive 2
At the doors to the Temple he fell for the last time. He fell, and I could not reach him.

My own Light flickers.

They took me down into the dark, past tiers of massed Hive, more than we believed could exist. Past grisly nurseries hung with pupae. Past writhing worms that they swallow whole. I saw the armaments of war.

I am weak, so weak.

They have clamped me to this spire while a black foulness eats my Light. The Wizard comes now and then to probe with her scaly claws into my systems, to inquire about my making, the City, what I have seen. I erase and dump as quickly as I can - they will learn little from me - but I am studying them, I know - pain.

Always pain.

I have seen chasms beneath the surface, falling away to green nothingness. I have seen black seeders prepared for invasion.

Their strength is not their own. They draw from another force, something that corrupts, that distorts, that eats and will not be satisfied.

The Wizard is near. I feel her presence as a rip and a knot in the world. She tells me things that I immediately forget. I am too small to hold the vastness of them, or the terror.

I am fading. I have no more that it can take.

With my last light I say to the City: War comes again from the Moon. This time they want Earth. Prepare.

Ghost Fragment: Hive 3
"The nightmares will crawl across this world and the machines of old will rest silent as they witness the final Light of this seemingly eternal dusk."

Ikora: And this Omnigul is here? On Earth?

Eris: I can feel it.

Ikora: Why?

Eris: She’s left the Hellmouth. Her inner chambers are active. More so than I have seen. But she is no longer in the shadows.

Ikora: No, not—I don't question your belief. I’m asking why she is here. Why Earth? Please, try to be clear. There is no time for cryptic half-answers and almost-truths.

Eris: Heh.

Ikora: She still laughs.

Eris: It seems I have become more like the Speaker—

Ikora: Secrets have their places. Here, now, is not that place. Omnigul. Tell me what you’ve learned. Tell me how we stop her.

Eris: There may be no stopping what comes. The Hive in Old Russia—in that dead land—their assault on the Cosmodrome is no coincidence. They move against the Light with purpose. Always with purpose.

Ikora: The Warmind?

Eris: Rasputin. Yes. The last fail safe against the night.

Ikora: He’s still yet to heed our calls—

Eris: I’m aware.

Ikora: —but seems just.

Eris: Just is enough. Just can save us all.

Ikora: And the Hive?

Eris: They will tear into its eyes—or worse.

Ikora: Worse?

Eris: The dust and bone and horror of their existence is simply who—what they are. But it does not negate their ageless intelligence.

Ikora: They do not seek to destroy Rasputin.

Eris: I don’t know. Destroying Rasputin would cost us a treasure beyond belief. But, such fury twisted to the Hive’s ends?

Ikora: We would fall.

Eris: All would fall.

Ikora: The Omnigul is here for Rasputin.

Eris: She is here to pave the way.

Ikora: For Crota?

Eris: That could just be the beginning. He's not their only god.

Ikora: As I am learning. I will make the others listen.

Eris: It may be too late.

Ikora: Then you need a new army.

Eris: I’ve made that mistake before.

Ikora: You saved us all. Your sacrifice—

Eris: I am still here. My sacrifice was—

Ikora: Enough.

Eris: And I should ask new heroes to fall... as they did?

Ikora: It is why we were reborn in the Light.

Eris: My Light is all but gone.

Ikora: Cherish what remains, but know that you have done enough. Your time in the shadows... I can't fathom—

Eris: My role among the Hidden is an honor.

Ikora: None would argue. But it's had its cost. Your place is to gather the understanding we need to wage these wars, but your own war is long done. Let those prepared to fight, fight.

Eris: And should they die?

Ikora: None who walk these Towers is afraid—and Rasputin must not fall.

Eris: Then Omnigul must be stopped.

Ikora: Two goals that appear to be one and the same.

Eris: Perhaps. So I am to stay?

Ikora: I will see to it.

Eris: Then let us hope we are strong enough to stand against what is upon us—and hope the others do not follow.

Ghost Fragment: Hive 4
Transcribed from a stolen copy of the journals of Toland, the Shattered (unverified by any crypto-archeologist)

If your Light is strong enough to hear across the soundless plains, you may have heard their screams.

What may seem like a void between their shrieks, holds, what I believe to be yet another clue to their origins. In one tone the Hive plea to their gods, but in the next, they whisper to another.

Perhaps it is here which holds the answer to their ultimate demise, or a bridge to their desires. In my studies, I still struggle to match the tones to their rune system. If only Cryptarch Adonna were still with us. No one has yet to match her adept.

Four sounds, oft repeated, but only four. Though I am on the trail of a fifth, faintly heard from the buzz that once spilled from the Shrine—

Eir.

Ur.

Xol.

Yul.

It is in these sounds that I fear yet another Hive secret hides. Perhaps beyond their gods, perhaps in accord with them. Perhaps these are just Hive translations of worlds we call another name, but I believe above all things they call to some kind of being. Beings that once lived, or still live somewhere buried amongst us. Beings the Hive perhaps owe their very existence to.

I am hoping the Warminds may hold further answers—that they can see into worlds where we can only see what lies upon them. The treasure of knowledge they promise still remains the most sought after of any Guardian. Whoever can find a way past their firewalls of ancient arts, and make them the allies they once were, could spare us further atrocities. And though Rasputin offers some promise, one can only hope its silence is self-defense, that it seeks only to preserve itself. We have to prove to it that we are on its side, but I am starting to doubt that is absolutely true. That maybe the Hive or the Darkness itself now have a grasp on his systems.

But then again, I am an old man with many fears, and in those fears, often called madness, I will continue to dwell.

Shredder
The Shredder, like so much Hive technology, appears to be an arcane joining of uncharted sciences that verge on magic. It has no discernible mechanism. But in the hands of a Hive warrior, it generates bolts of Void fire.

Boomer
This devastating Arc weapon is said to contain a shard of some dead celestial body. Lobbing bolts of rotting starfire, it is both a ruinous tactical weapon and an instrument of siege.

Cleaver
Carved of fossilized bone and hell-forged metal, dulled by centuries of slaughter and execution, the Cleaver is the terrible weapon of a Hive Knight. Despite their mass, they swing easily, as if the sword were aware of its action and eager to tear into the Light.

Tomb Ship
Tomb Ships are the Hive equivalent of troop carriers, though the term can only be applied loosely. They glide from point to point through ominous portals, wounds cut into the flesh of space.

Shrieker
These ever-watchful sentinels are believed, in some circles, to serve as the eyes of the Hive's innermost covens, allowing powerful Wizards and Knights to watch over their domains. Others believe Shriekers are nothing more than weapons meant to guard Hive ritual sites.

There is nothing living to the Shrieker, but neither are they mechanical constructs in a classical sense. They seem to be dead mass, animated by the arcane will of the Hive. When a Shrieker is broken, its Void charge rips free of the hull to seek vengeance.

Kranox, the Graven
"Their keeper of secrets."

Kranox, the Graven is said to be the Keeper of the Worlds' Grave, a vast repository chronicling the Hive's history of interstellar conquests. Every world they have devoured, every life they have eradicated, every enemy they've faced.

Defeating Kranox and cracking the secrets of the Worlds' Grave could provide the City with the keys to unraveling the Hive's true goals and their ultimate plans for Earth.

Swarm Princes
"The royalty of nightmare."

The Swarm Princes are terrible legends. It was their will that forged the Sword of Crota, a weapon meant to ravage worlds - the Great Render of Light, the Darkest Edge. They have waited in the shadows of the Hellmouth for their master's return, guarding the Sword and sating its ravenous hunger with the Light of Guardians who have dared to challenge them.

Telthor, Unborn
"If you see an Ogre, you know you're close to something the Hive values."

The Unborn are those Ogres who have yet to be given the honor of a summoning. Brute enforcers with a singular hunger for destruction, the Unborn serve the will of their greater Hive overlords. Those Ogres that display loyalty and strength will be called for an agonizing ritual that earns them the title "Reborn."

Telthor, protector of the Chamber of Night, is kept hungry and chained, awaiting the moment when an interloper breaks open the Chamber and threatens the Hive's hateful ambitions.

Sardok, Eye of Oryx
"Until the Darkness reigns, the Eyes must never close."

There are whispers of shrines to the fabled Oryx peppered across the entire system. Stories tell of walking nightmares, protectors of bone and fury, towering over these prized chambers.

Mormu, Xol Spawn
"How many horrors have they summoned?"

Behind every dark ritual lurks a coven of Wizards, the architects of the Hive's unspeakable designs. Mormu, born of the blood and flesh of Xol, is said to conduct terrible rituals upon the Hive's Ogres.

Phogoth, the Untamed
"The summoning tempers their rage...but first that rage must be stoked."

Phogoth's presence in the Summoning Pits reveals yet another of the Hive's depraved designs - a ritual of rebirth, where an Ogre's ravenous hunger and violence is honed and given purpose.

Blades of Crota
"They are the heralds of our destroyer. Ushers of this coming storm."

Vell: They’re more than Knights.

Eriana-3: They look like Knights.

Vell: That’s like calling you a tin can.

Eriana-3: Excuse me?

Vell: I’m saying calling them Knights is an understatement.

Omar: What are they then?

Toland: World carvers.

Omar: Meaning?

Toland: Those swords are neither bone nor steel. There’s a dark purpose to their edge.

Eriana-3: Darker than death?

Toland: Death is peace compared to the shadows.

Omar: Those Blades cut down more Guardians than I can count.

Vell: Hundreds.

Eriana-3: Thousands. The Vanguard should’ve known better.

Toland: I tried to warn them.

Omar: But we’re prepared?

Vell: I am.

Omar: Not exactly the question.

Eris: I have a feeling Light won’t be enough.

Eriana-3: Then we’ll take their swords from their ashes, and cut them down one-by-one, Blade-by-Blade.

Eris: You would wield a weapon of the night?

Eriana-3: For her—them? I will butcher any who stand in my way with even the darkest blade.

Eris: Pray it doesn’t come to that.

Vell: Heh. To cleave our enemies with their own tools of destruction? We should be so lucky.

Omar: You’ve got a strange view on luck.

Toland: When you’ve got your hand around the hilt and their ash under your boot, you might change your tune, Hunter.

Sardon, Fist of Crota
"One sword stands tallest among them, leading the charge against us all."

Vell: So this Sardon is one of these Swarm Princes?

Toland: In a stretch of the concept, sure. He is their lord and master. They are his generals.

Vell: Sounds like my kind of fight.

Omar: What isn't?

Vell: Eris and Eriana said the Blades rose first and slaughtered our brothers and sisters. If the one who leads their charge is within reach, I mean to end him—to end them all.

Eris: We are here for Crota.

Toland: I'm afraid each disciple is Crota.

Vell: Then it must be done. Know that I have faith in your Light, as I do in my own.

Eris: This isn’t about faith.

Eriana-3: It’s about vengeance.

Vell: It’s about the only thing that matters—victory. It’s about doing what we must to end this terror.

Eris: We will face them all, together. We have no time to fight individual battles.

Toland: I have no doubt the Fist will welcome your challenge, Titan. When we face him, you will lead the charge. Come, Crota's Temple lies ahead. If we can breach it, I'm sure another fight awaits.

Might of Crota
"It is a mountain of rage, summoned to leave only destruction in its path."

Toland: When a god's Will is met with force, its Might will be unleashed in the form of those raging beasts we call the ogre—monsters bred of pain, tormented by the Light, nothing but hatred for all who bring its suffering forth.

Eris: And how do you know this?

Toland: It was told to me.

Eris: By the Speaker?

Toland: By the Darkness itself.

Hand of Crota
"It crawls from the shadows to claim our Light in the name of Crota."

Sai: Can you track the others?

Eriana-3: No. There is too much interference. The shroud is too thick here. Ghost?

Ghost: Yes.

Eriana-3: We in bad shape?

Ghost: Could be better.

Eriana-3: Any charge?

Ghost: No. Something is siphoning the Light. I’m getting weaker by the second.

Eriana-3: And Sai’s Ghost? Same?

Ghost: Faint charge detected but it’s fading. Its shell is damaged beyond repair. No comms. No transmat. Even if there were a signal—

Eriana-3: Use whatever juice you’ve got and relay this transmission to the others.

Ghost: They won't receive it.

Eriana-3: Not the point.

Eriana-3: This is Eriana-3 of the Praxic Warlocks. Marked by the Cormorant Seal. I am alongside the Hunter Sai Mota. Our Light is nearly gone. The ash of untold Hive covers the ground in our wake.

Unknown: [inaudible scream]

Sai: Omnigul—

Eriana-3: From what Toland has described we are on the path of Crota's dreaded Hand.

Sai: The Hand is falling back toward the screams beyond these tunnels.

Eriana-3: Screw it. You ready?

Sai: My knives are eager for another dance.

Eriana-3: You speak little, Sai Mota, but always say the right things.

Eyes of Crota
"The Eyes watch us all, gathering our secrets in hopes of ending the Light."

Eris: Something is watching us. I can feel it.

Omar: I hate when you say that.

Toland: Crota has many Eyes. Every god does.

Eris: We have to go.

Omar: If they know our every move, what chance do we have?

Toland: With their great age comes even greater wisdom. I have no doubt the Hive led us here with intent.

Omar: What are you saying?

Toland: For these disciples, we offer the greatest sacrifice.

Eris: What does that mean?

Toland: Do you feel your Light fading? They are offering it to Crota. Us coming here, we are the ones waking him.

Omar: He’s mad.

Toland: Perhaps.

Eris: Why do you hold these secrets like weapons, to damn us all?

Toland: Because they are weapons. And we are going to use them to show the Hive they are not the only ones who breed fear.

Eris: How?

Toland: You’re hunters—hunt. Find the Eyes that are upon us.

Omar: Then?

Toland: We blind Crota and use what's left of your dying Light to lead us to where these monsters seek to conjure their master.

Heart of Crota
"It's not the first and surely is not the last. But until the last Heart stops, their hate will spread endlessly across the black."

Eris: Record this.

The Heart of Crota.

It is her blood that feeds their fury.

I thought Omar dead until I heard his screams. I followed them down, to the darkest night of the caverns below. What I saw—I witnessed all we fear—the villainy of the Hive on full display.

Among a sea of cocoons, and surrounded by thousands more freshly spawned hordes, the Heart held Omar's broken body in a vice of bone and pain. She was peeling the Light from his body. How? I can’t imagine, and I have tried. Tendrils of luminance tore away like flesh.

With every strand Omar's scream cut the dark and was met with a chittering chorus from the unborn. I can’t say if they were feeding off the Light itself, or the pain, but my guess is both—somehow, both.

The Heart, though I can't believe she actually has one, seemed to be conducting some nightmare orchestra, nurturing Crota's children, with the echoes of Agah's Light.

The Hive must end for all they had done, and some day, by my hand or another's, the Heart will meet with an end fitting of the pain she, herself, has dealt.

Urzok, the Hated
''"By pleasing their gods, the Hive carve scars on the fabric of our realm." -Toland, the Shattered''

Among the lesser Hive, there is no higher honor than that of the Hated.

Not all can be hallowed, fewer still gods, but all can do their part to smite the Light. The Hated, though, holds a unique place among the Hive. It is a singular position. Only ever one. And the emerald marrow on its blade is not from combat, but the ritualistic execution of those the Wizards have deemed Forsaken.

The Forsaken
''"Conjured with but one purpose... to die." -Toland, the Shattered''

How does one call through the Darkness? Through the void of the eternal night sky? Through the pathways that link the Hive to their ancient, rotting deities? With suffering.

The Forsaken are conjured and birthed through ritual, meant to serve as worship to gods of a higher plane of misery. To perform a ritual of sacrifice is to tempt a god's hunger. What then, if a being of the Light were to taint such a ritual? Would the Hive be punished? Would their gods grow angry?

Omnigul, Will of Crota
"That shriek, that wicked laugh. If you listen closely, you can hear power in its song.”

Eris: Those screams.

Omar: And I was just starting to tune them out.

Toland: It has been told that with these screams another spawn is awakened, birthed in the name of the god it holds.

Sai: Crota.

Toland: I am afraid so. They call this one Omnigul, mother of the spawn.

Sai: How do you—? I'd rather not know.

Toland: Commands, echoed through the dark, fetid caverns—orders carried out with grinding stone and squeaking claw, skittering thrall and blade against bone.

Omar: Well, now he's on a roll.

Eriana-3: I hear them, even when I don't. I will tear this Omnigul's throat out.

Toland: If you were to do so, our work here would be done. Without a Will to raise its army and herald its ascendance, there is no Crota to fear, at least here and now.

Eris: Then we follow the screams.

Ir Yût, the Deathsinger
Eriana! Let's sing. Sing with me. No, no, you rattling machine, not yet, it's too soon: we don't know the words.

We'll learn the song down there. We can learn it from Her. She comes up from the deep dark places where the greater Hive await to sing it to us, and here's a puzzle for you—

The song is death. To hear it is to die. To know the words is mortal. Oh, good point, Eriana, death is just a word, isn't it? A catch-all term for the failure to go on, nothing spiritual, nothing with its own quiddity. We all died once, and it did not prove insurmountable.

But what if what if what if, shhh listen, what if death were reified, described in its totality, made autonomous and universal, separate from any context or condition? What if She could invoke the ending of anything?

How, then, would She know the song, and sing it, without Herself dying?

Perhaps they know a way to make themselves part of the song, part of something vast and burning that rots and peels into ash but never ever ends. Perhaps She has engineered this for Him, and pinned His power up against the quiddity of death itself.

I am so terribly curious to know.

Crota, Son of Oryx
My Thoughts on Recent Events

He hides in the dark below: the monster of Luna, the titanic god-Knight who walked the regolith beneath a sky of green fire and butchered the greatest army of Guardians ever assembled. We abandoned the Moon rather than face him.

Whispered lore and fragmentary theories suggest that Crota represents a distinct class of Hive entities, not resident in our material world. My latest synthesis of this scattered esoterica suggests that Crota's 'home' is a universe created or remade by his power and occupied by Hive organisms of immense age. Any Guardian formidable enough to return with information on this dark reality might help us understand the Hive's goals for our own world—and, more pressingly, such an expedition might provide the key to Crota's defeat.

The epithet Son of Oryx is an ambiguous translation, often disputed. At this time, no direct action by Hive entities of more expansive power has ever been observed. Those who trade in Hive lore bicker over the exact positioning of Crota—is his world the apex of Hive power, or is it the youngest and most accessible of a string of netherworlds, each host to a more terrible Hive archentity?

The nature and possible interrelationship of the Vex gate system with Hive netherworlds remains unexplored.

Ikora

Wretched Knight
"They who walk as bone, would walk upon your bones."

As the Worm Keepers wrestled for control of the disparate broods within the Prison of Elders it was the Wretched Knights they turned to as their enforcers.

The Worm Keepers solidified their hold over the Wretched Knights by promising them the spoils of the Light. After growing weary of the Awoken, the newly arrived Guardians have finally secured their loyalty.

Gulrot, Unclean
"It is the physical form of sickness and rot; a walking disease. Cure it."

That the Worm Keepers held within the Prison of Elders would even attempt such a delicate metamorphosis so far removed from the full resources of their Summoning Pits speaks to either desperation or madness.

Challenge the Worm Keepers and cure the Prison of the hulking sickness they have birthed, or drown in the bile and mess of a festering abomination.

Urrox, Flame Prince
"The ground upon which you walk shall burn. YOU shall burn."

Prince to none, Urrox kept watch over a long-forgotten brood long ago. With the remnants of that spawn at his side, Urrox calls out to all wielders of the Light— to burn away all they are until only the Darkness remains.

The Vex
"Living metal. Incomprehensible intelligence."

The Vex are architects of ancient and complex structures thought to be buried within every celestial body. Linked by a network unlike any on Earth, they operate in unison, directed by a single unfathomable purpose.

Goblin
"All their joints turning together. Moving together. Towards you."

The Goblin is the basic unit in the vast computational network that is the Vex. Shattering the large, fan-shaped head does not seem to cause lasting damage but sends the Goblin into a crackling frenzy.

Hobgoblin
"The air by my cheek twanged twice, stinking of ozone, before I saw it."

Specialized for sniping, this lean, tough Vex model is fitted with improved optics and acute sensors in its horns. Like the Goblin, the Hobgoblin contains a milky radiolarian fluid.

Attacking a Hobgoblin often triggers a defensive reflex - the Hobgoblin seals itself in stasis and waits for help.

Harpy
"It swam back and forth through the air, spinning, the single red eye looking - I realized - for me."

The fastest and most mobile Vex, the Harpy is an airborne unit often deployed in flocks on patrols and scouting missions. They must stop and stabilize before attacking.

Minotaur
"I thought it was at a safe distance. I was wrong."

Minotaurs pack brutal heat, but most of their processing power is devoted to the physics of building massive Vex complexes, suspected to extend through multiple dimensions. Minotaur models are thicker and harder to crack than any other bipedal Vex, and they use their teleportation capability aggressively.

Hydra
"Our shots dissolved in the translucent matrix around it, useless."

The Hydra is a miniature fortress. Despite its physical slowness, it is a rapid processor of the data fed to it by other Vex, and what it lacks in mobility it makes up for in impregnable defenses and rock-melting firepower.

Hezen Corrective
We understand the Vex as a network of thoughts, unified and vast. But not all Vex are the same. The Hezen Corrective is one example of a Vex subtype, set apart from other Vex by distinct behaviors and objectives.

Swarming across the Ishtar Sink, these Vex aggressively seek out and attack the Fallen House of Winter, perform inscrutable operations around shining Confluxes, and even show interest in the Golden Age ruins left by the Ishtar Collective.

The bulk of our contact with Vex forces on Venus has involved the Corrective. Those scholars willing to risk their reputations speculating about the Vex often assert that the Corrective is an agent of change, designed to solve problems and remake the world in a form suitable to the Vex. Others contend that Corrective is simply a strategic distraction - meant to draw attention away from the actions of the Hezen Protective.

Hezen Protective
The mysterious Hezen Protective is the second major Vex behavioral unit on Venus. Concentrated around the legendary Vault of Glass and the Endless Steps, the site of a massive Vex gate and the access point to the towering Citadel, the Protective's behavior seems very defensive.

But leading Cryptarchs and experienced Guardians warn that it would be a fatal mistake to think of the Vex as a conventional military occupying an area. Vex behavior is always a process, active and purposeful. The Protective is clearly engaged in a colossal project, but as with much Vex behavior, it's unclear whether their ultimate purpose is even comprehensible to us. The Protective may be reacting to an event that has yet to occur, or working towards a goal that - to us - is already historical fact.

Virgo Prohibition
Mars is wracked by an ongoing theater-level conflict between the Cabal and a Vex subtype known as the Virgo Prohibition. These aggressive, relentless Vex constantly test the Cabal exclusion zone, apparently heedless of losses.

In spite of the Vex onslaught, the Cabal have managed to expand its beachhead and maintain a hold on several mysterious Vex structures. The Prohibition's tactics seem to be failing in the short run.

But it seems unlikely that an organization with the sheer computational scope of the Vex could be dragged into a losing war of attrition. Is it possible that the Vex are trying to draw out the Cabal strength? Or that their surface losses are a distraction from a deeper strategic ploy?

Ikora Rey has proposed that the Vex units can best be understood as algorithms - each a unique mapping of inputs to behavioral responses. Perhaps the Virgo Prohibition is simply the wrong algorithm for its environment, and its failure will drive the greater Vex network to adapt and improve.

Sol Divisive
Beyond the towering Meridian Bay gate lies the Black Garden, adrift in time and space. And within the Garden dwell the Vex of the Sol Divisive, frozen in rapture.

We have precious little insight into the Divisive's behavior. They seem central to Vex actions in the solar system: the Garden is clearly a place of enormous power.

Legends and scant field reports all indicate that the Divisive Vex behave religiously. Why would a hyperintelligent, time-spanning thought mesh exhibit religious behavior? The answer seems as obvious as it is chilling: if the Vex found worship and devotion more effective than any other behavior, they would adopt worship. Whatever the Vex found - or made - in the Garden, it transcends even their power.

Precursors
Sol Primeval

Those who delve deep into the Vault of Glass have seen time itself torn asunder. Awestruck Ghosts report encounters with ancient Vex, their casings built long before the age of humanity.

It would be easy to assume these Vex are the ancestors of those we face today - but with the Vex it is never so simple.

Descendants
Sol Imminent

Survivors of the Vault of Glass report sightings of ancient Vex - ancient in the sense that they have endured for eons. Convergent analysis from multiple Ghosts suggests that these Vex exist in our future.

If the Vex exist in our future - or in a possible future - should we take this as evidence that their defeat is impractical or unattainable? The Guardian Vanguard is quick to point out that time travel remains a mystery, and that the continued existence of the Vex is not remotely a sure indication of humanity's extinction.

Ghost Fragment: Vex
From the Records of the Ishtar Collective

ESI: Maya, I need your help. I don't know how to fix this.

SUNDARESH: What is it? Chioma. Sit. Tell me.

ESI: I've figured out what's happening inside the specimen.

SUNDARESH: Twelve? The operational Vex platform? That's incredible! You must know what this means - ah, so. It's not good, or you'd be on my side of the desk. And it's not urgent, or you'd already have evacuated the site. Which means...

ESI: I have a working interface with the specimen's internal environment. I can see what it's thinking.

SUNDARESH: In metaphorical terms, of course. The cognitive architectures are so -

ESI: No. I don't need any kind of epistemology bridge.

SUNDARESH: Are you telling me it's human? A human merkwelt? Human qualia?

ESI: I'm telling you it's full of humans. It's thinking about us.

SUNDARESH: About - oh no.

ESI: It's simulating us. Vividly. Elaborately. It's running a spectacularly high-fidelity model of a Collective research team studying a captive Vex entity.

SUNDARESH:...how deep does it go?

ESI: Right now the simulated Maya Sundaresh is meeting with the simulated Chioma Esi to discuss an unexpected problem.

[indistinct sounds]

SUNDARESH: There's no divergence? That's impossible. It doesn't have enough information.

ESI: It inferred. It works from what it sees and it infers the rest. I know that feels unlikely. But it obviously has capabilities we don't. It may have breached our shared virtual workspace...the neural links could have given it data...

SUNDARESH: The simulations have interiority? Subjectivity?

ESI: I can't know that until I look more closely. But they act like us.

SUNDARESH: We're inside it. By any reasonable philosophical standard, we are inside that Vex.

ESI: Unless you take a particularly ruthless approach to the problem of causal forks: yes. They are us.

SUNDARESH: Call a team meeting.

ESI: The other you has too.

Ghost Fragment: Vex 2
From the Records of the Ishtar Collective

SUNDARESH: So that's the situation as we know it.

ESI: To the best of my understanding.

SHIM: Well I'll be a [profane] [profanity]. This is extremely [profane]. That thing has us over a barrel.

SUNDARESH: Yeah. We're in a difficult position.

DUANE-MCNIADH: I don't understand. So it's simulating us? It made virtual copies of us? How does that give it power?

ESI: It controls the simulation. It can hurt our simulated selves. We wouldn't feel that pain, but rationally speaking, we have to treat an identical copy's agony as identical to our own.

SUNDARESH: It's god in there. It can simulate our torment. Forever. If we don't let it go, it'll put us through hell.

DUANE-MCNIADH: We have no causal connection to the mind state of those sims. They aren't us. Just copies. We have no obligation to them.

ESI: You can't seriously - your OWN SELF -

SHIM: [profane] idiot. Think. Think. If it can run one simulation, maybe it can run more than one. And there will only ever be one reality. Play the odds.

DUANE-MCNIADH: Oh...uh oh.

SHIM: Odds are that we aren't our own originals. Odds are that we exist in one of the Vex simulations right now.

ESI: I didn't think of that.

SUNDARESH: [indistinct percussive sound]

Ghost Fragment: Vex 3
From the Records of the Ishtar Collective

SUNDARESH: I have a plan.

ESI: If you have a plan, then so does your sim, and the Vex knows about it.

DUANE-MCNIADH: Does it matter? If we're in Vex hell right now, there's nothing we can -

SHIM: Stop talking about 'real' and 'unreal.' All realities are programs executing laws. Subjectivity is all that matters.

SUNDARESH: We have to act as if we're in the real universe, not one simulated by the specimen. Otherwise we might as well give up.

ESI: Your sim self is saying the same thing.

SUNDARESH: Chioma, love, please hush. It doesn't help.

DUANE-MCNIADH: Maybe the simulations are just billboards! Maybe they don't have interiority! It's bluffing!

SHIM: I wish someone would simulate you shutting up.

SUNDARESH: If we're sims, we exist in the pocket of the universe that the Vex specimen is able to simulate with its onboard brainpower. If we're real, we need to get outside that bubble.

ESI: ...we call for help.

SUNDARESH: That's right. We bring in someone smarter than the specimen. Someone too big to simulate and predict. A warmind.

SHIM: In the real world, the warmind will be able to behave in ways the Vex can't simulate. It's too smart. The warmind may be able to get into the Vex and rescue - us.

DUANE-MCNIADH: If we try, won't the Vex torture us for eternity? Or just erase us?

SUNDARESH: It may simply erase us. But I feel that's preferable to...the alternatives.

ESI: I agree.

SHIM: Once we try to make the call, the Vex may...react. So let's all savor this last moment of stability.

SUNDARESH: [indistinct sounds]

SHIM: You two are adorable.

DUANE-MCNIADH: I wish I'd taken that job at Clovis.

Ghost Fragment: Vex 4
Maya, Chioma, Duane-McNiadh and Shim decide to have a picnic before they send themselves into infinity.

Up here they have to act by biomechanical proxy. No human being in the Ishtar Academy has ever crossed the safety cordon and walked the ancient stone under the Citadel, the Vex construct that stabs up out of the world to injure space and time. It's not safe. The cellular Vex elements are infectious, hallucinogenic, entheogenic. The informational Vex elements are more dangerous yet— and there could be semiotic hazards beyond them, aggressive ideas, Vex who exist without a substrate. Even now, operating remote bodies by neural link, the team's thoughts are relayed through the warmind who saved them, sandboxed and scrubbed for hazards. Their real bodies are safe in the Academy, protected by distance and neural firewall.

But they walk together in proxy, pressed close, huddled in awe. Blue-green light, light the color of an ancient sea, washes over them. Each of their explorer bodies carries a slim computer. Inside, two hundred twenty-seven of copies of their own minds wait, patient and paused, for dispersal.

"I wonder where it came from," Duane-Mcniadh says. Of course he's the one to break the reverent silence. "The Citadel. I wonder if it was here before the Traveler changed Venus."

"It could have been latent," Chioma Esi suggests. She's the leader. She kept them together when it seemed like they faced actual, eternal torture. She pulled them through. "Seeded in the crust. Waiting for a period of geological quiescence, so it could grow."

Dr. Shim shrugs. "I think the Traveler did something paracausal to Venus. Something that cut across space and time. The Citadel seems to come from the past of a different Venus than our own. It doesn't have to make any sense by our logic, any more than the Moon's new gravity."

Maya Sundaresh walks at the center of the group. She's been too quiet lately. What happened to them wasn't her fault and maybe she'll believe that soon. "What could you do with it?" she murmurs, staring up. "If you understood it?"

Chioma puts an arm around her. "That's what we're going to find out. Where the Citadel can send us. Whether we can come back."

"They're not us any more." Maya looks down at herself, at the cache of her self-forks. "We're not going anywhere. We're sending them. They're diverging."

They rescued themselves from the inside of a Vex mind, two hundred and twenty-seven copies of themselves, untortured and undamaged. Those copies voted, all unanimously, to be dispatched into the Vex information network as explorers.

When Maya and Chioma look at each other they can tell they're each wondering the same thing: how many of them will stay together, wherever they go? How many fork-Mayas and fork-Chiomas will fall out of love? How many will end up bereft, grieving? How many will be happy, like them?

Chioma tries a little smile. Maya smiles back, haltingly, and then, sighing, unable to stop herself, grins a big stupid grin, an everything-is-okay grin. Shim makes a loud obnoxious awwww at them. Duane-McNiadh is still thinking about paracausality, and doesn't notice.

They climb. When they find the Vex aperture they plan to use, they overlay the luminous stone and ancient brassy machines with images of sun and sand. They set up the transmitters and interfaces that will translate two hundred and twenty-seven simulations of the four of them into Vex language, into the tangled pathways of the Vex network, to see what's out there, and maybe come home.

In the metaphor they've chosen, setting up the equipment is like laying out the picnic. In the metaphor they've chosen they look like themselves, not hardened explorer proxies. Like people.

"Do you think," Duane-McNiadh begins, halting, "that you could use this place to change things? If you regretted something, could you find a way through the Citadel, go back, and change it?"

"I wish I could go back and change you into someone else," Dr. Shim grouses. Chioma's shaking her head. She knows physics. "Time is self-consistent," she says. "I think it's like the story of the merchant and the alchemist. You could go back and watch something, or be part of something, but if you did, then that was the way it always happened."

"Maybe you could bring something back to now. Something you needed." Maya runs a hand across the surface of the Vex aperture, feeling it with sensors ten thousand times as precise as a human hand. These proxy bodies are limited— they crash and need resetting every few hours, they struggle with latency, they can't hold much long term memory. But they'll get better. "Or go forward and learn something vital. If you knew how to control it, how to navigate across space and time."

"So it's just a way to make everything more complicated." Duane-McNiadh sighs. "It doesn't fix anything. Nothing ever does! I should've taken that job at— "

"You would've hated it at Clovis," Dr. Shim says. "We both know you're happier here." Duane-McNiadh stands stunned by this courtesy, and then they both pretend to ignore each other.

The four of them set up the interface. Their stored copies wake up and prepare for the journey, so that as they work they find themselves surrounded by the mental phantasms of themselves: two hundred and twenty-seven Mayas and Chiomas knocking helmets and smiling, two hundred and twenty-seven Dr. Shims making cynical bets with each other about how long they'll last, two hundred and twenty-seven Duane-McNiadhs blowing goodbye kisses to the sweet golden sun, two hundred and twenty-seven of them shaking hands, smiling, making ready to explore.

Slap Rifle
From a tactical perspective, the Slap Rifle is a Vex directed-energy weapon that fills their analog of the light infantry role. From an engineering perspective it's something much more interesting: a terminal. The Slap Rifle receives a bolt of Solar energy from somewhere (or somewhen) else and it points it at a target.

The terminal's flexibility is impressive. In non-combat conditions, the Slap Rifle seems like it might serve as a viable field transmitter, construction tool, navigational beacon, network repeater, or any of a number of other utility functions.

Line Rifle
The Vex Line Rifle fires high-velocity Solar particle jets. Deployed on the Hobgoblin chassis, the Line Rifle serves as a sniper weapon, pinning down targets or delivering the killing blow.

Like the Slap Rifle, the Line Rifle is a terminal weapon, although its source is much more energetic. Some believe the weapon pulls material from the accretion disk of a galactic singularity. This would imply the Vex are near - or have already achieved - access to a terrifying range of civilization-killing weapons. Others consider this unlikely, and propose that the Line Rifle simply draws from a central Vex power supply.

Torch Hammer
The Torch Hammer is a devastating Vex heavy weapon. Firing projectiles of strange matter, the Hammer mauls targets with exotic particle decay and deadly radiation.

Slap Grenade
The Vex use Slap Grenades to drive targets out into the open. These devices behave more like miniaturized gates than conventional explosives, channeling a Void energy pulse from a remote location.

Cyclops
The Cyclops is a huge, stationary Vex construct with a powerful Void weapon. Guardians think of Cyclops as gun platforms - batteries installed to protect key points with devastating mortar fire.

But some evidence suggests that the Cyclops is in fact an enormous sensor or beacon, and that its weapons capabilities are secondary. What the Cyclops senses remains unknown, although its mind core is vast. It may play a role in the Vex networked intelligence, or in navigation across space and time.

A damaged Cyclops can be forced into a state of punch-drunk confusion, its inputs overwhelmed by hostile fire. This can result in fratricidal kills on other Vex units.

Zydron, Gate Lord
The intelligence we call Zydron seems to exist in a liminal state, stretched between gates in the Vex network. It manifests as a physical being only when called.

Warlock scholars believe that Gate Lords regulate traffic between Vex gates, and that their minds contain codes that might open the way into forbidden realms. An enormous amount of hope and anger has been spent on a particular debate - could we find a Vex gate that opens onto a place and time before the Collapse, and somehow forestall it?

Prohibitive Mind
Vex Axis Minds are individual Vex hulls that contain local instances of superordinate Vex goal sets. This cryptic phrase means something reasonably simple - the Axis Mind contains a copy of all the information required to pursue a particular objective.

This allows other nearby Vex to focus on their local tasks, leaving global planning to the Axis Mind. Of course, this also introduces a centralized weakness for enemies to target. But the Vex seem to consider the tradeoff worthwhile.

The Prohibitive Mind seems to coordinate Vex action against Cabal positions in Meridian Bay. The current Vex operational plan - to the extent that we assume the Vex have operational plans - appears to involve an attritional campaign on the surface, supplemented by disruptive use of gates to bypass Cabal hardpoints.

Sol Progeny
To Commander Zavala - My Thoughts on Recent Events

Zavala -

How like you to ask me for the bad news, even in this moment of triumph. I've finished going over that Ghost's report.

It is my hypothesis - a hypothesis at best - that the Vex saw the abominable presence at the heart of the Garden as a divine power. I can hear your protest already: how can machines have a god?

The answer is simple. The Vex, for all their voracious intelligence, could not understand or decipher what they found. They searched through all available reactions, and they settled on the course with the greatest payoff...to worship this power, and to remake themselves in its image.

I believe the three Axis Minds found in proximity to the abomination were Vex machines built to serve as vessels for this power: a way to extend its reach across space and time, binding it to the Vex, and the Vex to it. If they had succeeded, I cannot begin to guess what horrors they would have unleashed.

Attend carefully. There is cause for hope. When endangered, the abomination activated these vessels and defended itself. This tells us that it was threatened. Whatever it was, Guardians could harm it.

And it activated only a single vessel at a time. Its strength was limited. Whatever it intended, it was not ready yet.

We must assume the abomination was part of something greater. And we cannot flinch from the terrible, obvious comparison: just as the Traveler acts through us, this power was able to act through its own servants.

Let us be wary. There may be other abominations, and other vessels.

Ikora

Sekrion, Nexus Mind
The Vanguard's intelligence sources now believe, with good confidence, that Sekrion oversees the expansion of the Vex network through the crust of Venus. The Hydra chassis common to many Vex Axis Minds boasts impressive computational capacity. Sekrion likely uses this capacity to regulate coordination and crosstalk between Minotaurs operating in the construction role.

Destroying Sekrion should significantly hamper the Vex effort to incorporate the entire planet into their network.

The Gorgons
Deep in the Vault of Glass, the fabric of reality bends to the will of the Vex. Warlocks speak in tones of awe of the Gorgons - creatures that seem to possess a dreaded, almost unimaginable strength: an ontological weapon.

Like the Oracles and the Templar, the Gorgons reputedly possess the ability to define what is and is not real. Whatever they perceive becomes subject to erasure at their will. Until a countermeasure can be found, Guardians must avoid their gaze at all costs - or reply to any detection with immediate, overwhelming force.

The Gorgons' ability must be tied to the nature of the Vault of Glass. We can take some solace in the clear fact that the Vex cannot manifest this power in the world outside.

The Templar
Even among the Axis Minds, the Templar is extraordinary. Fragmentary glimpses and scattered reports suggest a Hydra of impossible capabilities - a creature out of time. The Templar and the Oracles guard the way into the deeper Vault. Legends say that the Oracles foresee what is to come, a world as the Vex desire it - and that the Templar has the power to shape reality to match the Oracles' design, expunging any threats. The power of the Vault flows through the Templar. It will take something extraordinary to shatter its shield.

Atheon, Time's Conflux
To speak of Atheon is to accept certain limitations. We are ill-equipped to understand an entity that defies simple causality. Let us accept these limitations and proceed. Atheon waits in the Vault of Glass. Just as Atheon sidesteps “past” and “future”, it is impossible to say whether Atheon created the Vault or the Vault created Atheon. Causal pathways converge on Atheon from every axis in the space-time bulk. Atheon has a function. We hazard that it regulates and oversees the Vex conflux system. What are these confluxes? How do they relate to the physical Vex network that has devoured so much of Mercury and Venus? We might guess that the Vex confluxes represent the extension of this network across space and time. Perhaps the Vex use closed timelike curves to solve unfathomable computations. Or the Vex may seek to transcend a physical substrate, and move their thoughts directly into the fundament of the universe. If physics is a set of rules that the cosmos uses to calculate itself, perhaps the Vex seek to worm their way into these calculations: to become a law of reality, inseparable from existence. A virus in the system. Perhaps Atheon was the centerpiece of this project, a command nexus that unified efforts across time. But we must accept that all of this is speculation.

The Undying Mind
''"We are starting to believe that time is home to the Vex, and somewhere in those unmappable voids dwell their undying minds." - Maya Sundaresh, Fragmented Entry 10938, Ishtar Collective Archive''

Commander Zavala: And you believe it's different than the others.

Ikora: I know it is.

Cayde-6: Let me guess... Chasing more Vex "minds"?

Ikora: The readings from nearby surges hold no time function. It could quite possibly be resealing the Black Garden back into whatever void it once hid.

Cayde-6: Any more Hidden intel?

Zavala: Negative. Just some old Osiris riddles.

Cayde-6: They are starting to feel like the same thing.

Ikora: We cannot just ignore it. We have to keep the Garden here, among the Light. We are just beginning to match its pathways to this fractured data from the Archive.

Cayde-6: Interesting, undying, huh? What do you suppose they meant by that.

Zavala: I'll alert the Speaker. Let's find out.

Overmind Minotaurs
"Not all Minds are alike."

The Overmind Minotaurs arrived at the Prison as extensions of the Gate Lord, Qodron. Their mission: to act in accordance to the path of Qodron and see that Gate Lord's future is secured.

Qodron, Gate Lord
"It is no prisoner. It is here with a purpose."

Qodron sees only its own glorious future. It has come to the Prison of Elders, with an army of devout Vex war-machines, to take what it believes to be its first steps toward that future.

This machine beast has only one mission. At some point a Light will shine within the walls of this Prison, and for its gloried future to unfold, that Light must die.

Qodron is not the prisoner here. You are, Guardian.

The Cabal
"I think you could follow a trail of shattered worlds all the way to their home."

Tactically efficient, disciplined, and unrelenting, the Cabal are the greatest known military force in the system. Their origins and ultimate objectives are a mystery, but it seems clear they have conquered more worlds than humanity has ever known.

Cabal soldiers wear pressurized armor that replicates the environment of their high-gravity homeworld. Their field tactics depend on ranks of Legionaries supported by air power, elite infantry, and ultra-heavy armor.

Legionary
"Their only tactic seems to be 'slow advance.' The problem is, they're really good at it."

Propelled by jump packs and wielding powerful slug rifles, Legionaries are the Cabal's line infantry and the backbone of their military power on the ground. Common Legionary tactics center on the bounding advance - some units attack the target while others close the range or find new firing positions.

Centurion
"They're not breaking. Why aren't they breaking?"

Centurions are tactically intelligent, highly skilled field commanders. Their armor boasts a formidable array of combat electronics and deployable munitions.

Colossus
"Where a Colossus stands, many will fall."

Towering over other Cabal, equipped with rapid-firing heavy weapons and nearly impenetrable armor, the Colossus is the most devastating heavy infantry unit in the Cabal order of battle.

Psion
"There is no higher warfare than deception."

Psions are smaller than all other Cabal morphs, and may be an unrelated species. Hyper-intelligent, fast and unpredictable, they possess strong psionic capabilities - including the ability to emit disorienting and deadly psychokinetic Arc blasts.

Phalanx
"Remember, they have to take a shot sometime."

Phalanx soldiers carry massive shields, used for both attack and defense. While this protection is nearly impenetrable, clever opponents can bait the Phalanx or sneak shots around the shield.

Sand Eaters
"The sooner we're extinguished, the sooner they can go home."

- Commander Zavala

The Cabal formation first and most frequently encountered by Guardians, the Sand Eaters represent the numerical bulk of the Cabal presence on Mars. Their equipment, tactics, and morale all show the weight of a long deployment - but they continue to pursue their objectives with dogged, weary determination.

Dust Giants
"Position compromised. Casualties unsustainable. Request heavy air. Request [Dust Giants]."

- Cryptarch translation of Sand Eater tactical chatter

Highly trained and heavily conditioned, Dust Giant soldiers seem to be recruited from veteran Sand Eater infantry. The Cabal order of battle positions them as a mobile reserve and shock force, rolled in to blunt major Vex offensives and reinforce crumbling lines.

Siege Dancers
"I've seen how fast they work. We have to hit them before they make the next move."

- Cayde-6

The Cabal's elite forward unit, the Siege Dancers are deployed into unsecured areas to take control and set up fortifications. Their tactical doctrine allows more freedom to unit commanders - perhaps because their missions face much greater unknowns. Siege Dancer engineers have been observed to compete in demolition challenges. Whether this represents training or a form of recreation is unknown.

Blind Legion
"PERIMETER SECURE."

- Cryptarch translation of a Blind Legion transmission, repetition 6140

The Cabal presence on Mars is locked in an endless war with the Vex - and at the heart of this war is the Blind Legion. Deployed to defend vital artifacts seized from the Vex, the Legion holds its ground with fanatic zeal.

Blind Legion soldiers brave one of the most thankless, grueling assignments in the Cabal order of battle: descending into buried ruins and black catacombs to sweep for Vex presence.

Ghost Fragment: Cabal
I have stayed with the Cabal, even as the Light in me dims - I have been too far from the Traveler for too long. If I am not destined to find my own Guardian, at least I can inform the City of what I've learned.

I thought Mars would be the place to find a Guardian. The sand preserves everything well, and Clovis Bray had been famous for attracting talent. The brave, the brilliant, the footloose, those restless on Earth and itching for fame. I stowed away aboard a Mars scout ship, hoping.

No luck. The sand ate everything. Clothes from skin, skin from bone. It was as if there were never any people here at all. I have been through every broken window in every building. Nothing. That is, no Guardian material. And no ride back to Earth. The scout was long gone.

What I did find, however, was a way into the Cabal Warbase. Their runty piggish eyes are too dull to see me, as long as I stay out of their defense systems. The Psions are a different matter: Too quick, too clever, throwing their minds around like hammers. I creep around walls, or dig into a heap of canisters and watch from there.

There is a vast Empire behind these creatures, many star systems away. Some pledge allegiance to that far Empire, obeying their ancient marching orders. Some do not. They disagree among themselves about the answers. I wish arguing Cabal on no one. They slam their plated bodies into each other with horrendous roars. Intelligence gathering has never been so painful.

Ghost Fragment: Cabal 2
A hologram of a spinning golden planet, in stasis, turning gently. You can see the storms moving over its face. But when the Commanders congregate below it, when they activate whatever controls are below, it changes. Fissures appear on its face. Is that their home? When the room empties I play with the controls, but it's older, native technology that I don't recognize at all.

I don't know what it means. It's not difficult to hide in these caverns when you're as small as I am, although the Psions tend to look around them when they pass me. There are infinitely many cracks and crannies. They are not a race that fears infiltration or espionage.

There is meaning to the structure and layout of their buildings. This is a warrior people, and they lay out their fortifications along ancient principles and time-tested strategies. I can't figure out the sense that lies behind it. I would need ten times the computing power for inference calculations. But I know it's there. I can intuit it. It's like an open hand, ready to squeeze into a fist. A threat. A gesture of power.

For all their might and strength, for all that they have dug into Mars and flung up battle walls with the bureaucratic grimness of conquerors, I suspect they are fleeing from something. That within their hard shells and thousand-folded shields is a sharp seed of terror. But of what? Does something follow them? Should we fear it too?

Slug Rifle
The workhorse of the Cabal field arsenal, this weapon's apparent simplicity belies the technology behind it. Each round is a microrocket capable of efficient operation in varying environmental and gravitational conditions. Standard-issue warheads mount a duplex explosive that combines an armor-piercing penetrator with a flesh-shredding shrapnel bus.

Cabal forces on Mars favor rockets with low velocity but high impact, perhaps due to their effectiveness against the Vex. In Guardian parlance, these weapons deal Solar damage.

Projection Rifle
This weapon fires salvos of explosive rounds designed to incapacitate, disorient, and destroy. The weapon feeds ballistic data to each projectile at the moment of launch, coordinating the salvo for maximum effect. These weapons deal Solar damage.

Heavy Slug Thrower
This devastating squad support weapon is capable of completely halting enemy advances with a hail of microrockets. It performs so well that it has undergone very little enhancement or modification since its introduction. The Cabal's Colossus heavy infantry units wield Heavy Slug Throwers to devastating effect.

In Guardian parlance, these weapons deal Solar damage.

Cabal Shield
Built to the same spec as Cabal hull plating, this tactical shield is nearly indestructible to conventional weapons. It has integrated sensors that relay information not only to the shield bearer but also the Cabal battle network, allowing nearby units to coordinate more effectively.

Harvester
The blocky, dull exterior of the Cabal Harvester belies the grace and power with which they maneuver. Guardians have described them dropping in aggressively from low orbit with a deafening boom, kicking up dust storms and swooping through the silent skyscrapers of Mars' dead cities.

Harvesters often remain on station after deploying Cabal troops, providing support fire with their turrets. These weapons deal Solar damage.

Interceptor
Though they lack the speed of a Fallen Pike, and their unwieldy shape cannot match the maneuverability of a Guardian's Sparrow, the Cabal Interceptor more than makes up for both shortcomings with firepower - a pair of low-velocity, high-yield anti-personnel/anti-armor cannons on articulated mounts. These weapons deal Solar damage.

Powered by a variant of the same boosters used in infantry jump jets and the massive Goliath tanks, Interceptors skate over the dunes of Mars, keeping close watch on the Cabal Exclusion Zone.

Goliath Tank
With a few blood-curdling exceptions, the Goliath is the single largest piece of ground-based ordnance the Cabal has deployed in our system. These huge armored vehicles sport an incredible arsenal of weapons, tailor-made for massive area denial. The Goliath's main gun is almost certainly capable of engaging spacecraft.

Four massive boosters keep the Goliath mobile. This locomotion system makes the Goliath surprisingly agile, but it is also a weakness. Targeting the boosters should allow a quick mobility kill, rendering the Goliath vulnerable to follow-up attack.

Most Goliath weapons deal Solar damage.

Bracus Tho'ourg
Victory comes on the wings of death.

Reports of the one they call Bracus Tho'ourg began in the earliest days of contact with the Cabal. The first Guardians who faced him are long lost, but the legends speak of a powerful commander who secured the Buried City with merely a fraction of the Cabal's forces on Mars. If these reports are accurate, they provide clues not only to Tho'ourg's tactical prowess but to the Cabal lifespan.

Bracus Tha'aurn
''Embrace suffering. Only then can it be conquered.''

Bracus Tha'aurn appears remarkable among Cabal commanders for his interest in the glories of our Golden Age. Having been faced only in the company of Psions, the Vanguard has reason to believe he maintains some sort of command over their deployment.

Primus Sha'aull
If your enemy speaks with a blade, master the sword.

No one knows what fascination the Vex hold for the leader of the Blind Legion, but Primus Sha'aull has put his command at great risk by pushing into lands occupied by the machines.

The Psion Flayers
"We have just as much to learn from our enemies as we do from our past."

- Master Rahool

Somewhere among their forces, the Cabal hide one of their most powerful weapons, the Psion Flayers. The extent of their ability is still uncharted, but Cryptarch studies and Warlock fears have led the Vanguard to classify them as a serious threat. Many among the Warlock orders believe the Flayers pulled Phobos from its natural orbit, holding it in place, waiting for the order to release as a weapon.

Valus Ta'aurc
"The last sounds to reach their ears were the creak of tank tread and the battle-cry of Ta'aurc."

From his armored seat of power, Valus Ta'aurc has claimed more ground on Mars than any known Cabal commander. His name is feared throughout Meridian Bay, and the tread-marks left by his tank have come to signify the expansion of the Cabal's ever-widening Exclusion Zone.

Val Aru'un
"Enter as soldier, survive on the crushed ambitions of lesser warriors."

Aru'un's ascension to Val will never be considered official by the Cabal High Command proper, but in the Prison of Elders the approval of the outside world is meaningless. To his fellow prisoners, Aru'un is a Val worthy of following.

Valus Trau'ug
"Trau'ug. In your tongue its meaning is something akin to 'less talk, more action.'" - Variks, the Loyal

Valus Trau'ug retains the title of Valus only in defiance to his ex-allies and commanders in Cabal high command.

When the Cabal high command ignored his pleas to advance on the Reef, he viewed their inaction as weakness. The most loyal members of his legion pledged their fealty and Trau'ug took to massacring his officers, marking himself and his soldiers as traitors of the Empire.

Trau'ug then set course for the Reef. How he and his army became denizens of the Prison of Elders is not public record, and Variks tends to skirt the issue when pressed. What is known, is that Trau'ug's bloodlust and mastery of wartime stratagem is intact within the prison.

Using battle-tested Cabal field techniques, the Broken Legion crush any who dare accept Trau'ug's challenge. His custom-rigged shield randomizer keeps attackers off guard as he presses every advantage.

The Darkness
Something hit us. Killed our Golden Age. Nearly wiped us out. Only the Traveler saved us, and at a shattering cost.

The Speaker tells of a cosmic force that swept over us and caused the Collapse. Legend calls it the Darkness, the Traveler's ancient enemy, which hunted it across space.

All we have left are questions. Centuries of debate gave birth to competing arguments on the nature of the Darkness and the Collapse.

The Pujari Position describes the Darkness as a force with both physical and moral presence, an actualization of evil. Pujari art depicts the Darkness as a great storm, or as a change in conduct, a corruption that emerged from within and poisoned the Golden Age.

Saint-14's Position argues that the Darkness was an invading armada, an alien force of incredible - but tangible - power. Some adherents believe that this armada sprang from species rejected or discarded by the Traveler for their sins.

Ulan-Tan's Thesis considers the Darkness a necessary symmetry to the Traveler in a cosmic balance. In this view, the Traveler's goodness led it to sacrifice for others, and it is up to us to return this goodness by healing the Traveler.

The Monist Position, or the Deflationary Position, considers the Darkness as a technologically sophisticated force, perhaps a post-Singularity intelligence. Adherents invoke information theory or contend that the universe is a simulation, allowing advanced intelligence to gain weakly acausal powers by bending the rules.

The Acataleptic Clause claims that we are intrinsically unable to understand the Darkness. In many respects this belief parallels the Praxic Creed, which suggests that we should stop worrying about the nature of the Darkness and focus on resisting and defeating it.

Certain positions - often labeled heretical - imply that the Traveler itself triggered the Collapse, or that it knew the Darkness was coming for it and hoped to use the Solar System as a sacrifice or a proxy army. The Binary Star cult is one notable example.

Calcified Fragments: Curiosity
Verse 1:0 — Fundament

Dearest sisters,

It’s taken me two years — a quarter of our lives — but I’ve found the proof. We aren’t native to the Fundament. Our ancient ancestors came here to hide.

The plate of stone we live on, our Osmium Court, is one fragment of a rocky planet that crashed into the Fundament and broke apart. All the other nearby continents — the Helium Drinkers, the Bone Plaza, the Starcutters — came from the same world.

Perhaps the other races of the Fundament are migrants too.

We live on the shrapnel of our homeworld, floating on an ocean deep inside a gas giant.

That’s what Fundament must be. A titanic gas planet. The endless storm above us must be one layer of the atmosphere. And the sea we float on... there’s more down beneath it. So much more!

You understand what this means, Sathona. The Timid Truth is a lie. We aren’t meant to be the world’s prey. We weren’t born to live and die in the dark.

We have a better destiny.

Tell our father, sister Sathona. This is the proof of his life’s work.

With love, for your second birthday, Your first surviving sister, Aurash

Calcified Fragments: Insight
Verse 5:9 — I'll Make Sure.

I have made preparations.

If I am defeated I know it will be because my understanding of the universe was incomplete. I failed to anticipate some strategy, some nemesis. (Perhaps Taox, if she still lives.)

If I am defeated, I know that I will fall to something mighty. Something that craves might, something that loves what I love, which is the Deep, a principle and a power, the versatile, protean need to adapt and endure, to reach out and shape the universe entirely for that purpose, to mutate and redesign and test and iterate so that it can prevail, can seize existence and hold it, certain that this is everything, that there is nothing to life except living. And it has two faces, yet it is one shape. One face is the objective, which is obvious, and the other face is that will to sacrifice things and ideas for a single mission, the mission of becoming the shape, a shape that will not relent, the utter commitment to survival, to draw the right sword and choose where to cut: to allow this hunger to become your weapon.

So I will prepare a book, which is a map to a weapon. 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. And then they will take up my weapon, and they will use it, they will use that weapon, which is all that I am.

And armed thus with my past, and my future, and my present (which is a weapon, a weapon that takes whatever is available, a weapon bound to malice), they will mantle me, Oryx, the Taken King.

They will become me and I will become them, each of us defeating the other, correcting the other, alloying ourselves into one omnipotent philosophy. Thus I will live forever.

I’ll make sure.

Ghost Fragment: Darkness
V113NNI070XMX001 SECRET HADAL INSTANT AI-COM/RSPN: SOLSECCENT//SxISR//DEEPSPACE CONTACT CONTACT CONTACT TRANSIENT. NULLSOURCE. NULLTYPE.

This is a SKYSHOCK ALERT.

Multiple distributed ISR assets report a TRANSIENT NEAR EXTRASOLAR EVENT. Event duration ZERO POINT THREE SECONDS. Event footprint includes sterile neutrino scattering and gravity waves. Omnibus analysis detects deep structure information content (nine sigma) and internal teleonomy.

No hypothesis on event mechanism (FLAG ACAUSAL). Bootstrap simulation suggests event is DIRECTED and INIMICABLE (convergent q-Bayes/Monte Carlo probability approaches 1).

No hypothesis on deep structure encoding (TCC/NP-HARD).

Source blueshift suggests IMMINENT SOLAR ENTRY.

Promote event to SKYSHOCK: OCP: EXTINCTION. Activate VOLUSPA. Activate YUGA. Cauterize public sources to SECURE ISIS and harden for defensive action.

I am invoking CARRHAE WHITE and assuming control of solar defenses.

STOP STOP STOP V113NNI070XMX091

Ghost Fragment: Darkness 2
Dreams of Alpha Lupi

The universe is a beast.

The body is made from tiny stuff, from near-nothings. From atoms swimming through a blood of crackling sparks. Simple, eternal Laws shape the beast. The largest galaxy is ruled by principles of mass and motion. Electrons are slaves to charge and to chance. And this is why the universe feels inexhaustible, eternal.

No sun complains about its death. Life is the problem. Life can be woven from flesh or circuit or thoughtful light. Origins don't matter. But small, half-smart creatures have a fierce talent for denying the inevitable, for balking and complaining about injustices that don't exist and consequences that should be borne in silence.

Ghost Fragment: Darkness 3
From the Journals of Toland, the Shattered

I drive myself to the edge of madness trying to explain the truth.

It's so simple. Elegant like a knife point. It explains - this is not hyperbole, this is the farthest thing from exaggeration - EVERYTHING.

But you lay it out and they stare at you like you've just been exhaling dust. Maybe they're missing some underlying scaffold of truth. Maybe they are all propped on a bed of lies that must be burned away.

Why does anything exist?

No no no no no don't reach for that word. There's no 'reason'. That's teleology and teleology will stitch your eyelids shut.

Why do we have atoms? Because atomic matter is more stable than the primordial broth. Atoms defeated the broth. That was the first war. There were two ways to be and one of them won. And everything that came next was made of atoms.

Atoms made stars. Stars made galaxies. Worlds simmered down to rock and acid and in those smoking primal seas the first living molecule learned to copy itself. All of this happened by the one law, the blind law, which exists without mind or meaning. It's the simplest law but it has no worshippers here (out there, though, out there - !)

HOW DO I EXPLAIN IT it's so simple WHY DON'T YOU SEE

Imagine three great nations under three great queens. The first queen writes a great book of law and her rule is just. The second queen builds a high tower and her people climb it to see the stars. The third queen raises an army and conquers everything.

The future belongs to one of these queens. Her rule is harshest and her people are unhappy. But she rules.

This explains everything, understand? This is why the universe is the way it is, and not some other way. Existence is a game that everything plays, and some strategies are winners: the ability to exist, to shape existence, to remake it so that your descendants - molecules or stars or people or ideas - will flourish, and others will find no ground to grow.

And as the universe ticks on towards the close, the great players will face each other. In the next round there will be three queens and all of them will have armies, and now it will be a battle of swords - until one discovers the cannon, or the plague, or the killing word.

Everything is becoming more ruthless and in the end only the most ruthless will remain (LOOK UP AT THE SKY) and they will hunt the territories of the night and extinguish the first glint of competition before it can even understand what it faces or why it has transgressed. This is the shape of victory: to rule the universe so absolutely that nothing will ever exist except by your consent. This is the queen at the end of time, whose sovereignty is eternal because no other sovereign can defeat it. And there is no reason for it, no more than there was reason for the victory of the atom. It is simply the winning play.

Of course, it might be that there was another country, with other queens, and in this country they sat down together and made one law and one tower and one army to guard their borders. This is the dream of small minds: a gentle place ringed in spears.

But I do not think those spears will hold against the queen of the country of armies. And that is all that will matter in the end.

Ghost Fragment: Darkness 4
This war is all there is for you.

What else do you have? You walk among mortals and immortals, a creature lost in time. Your only purpose is the struggle.

Does it seem unfair? To be brought back into this, the end of days, the long dwindling exhalation of an ancient corpse? You were at peace. Now you are a dead husk charged with war. Do you remember anything of freedom?

Fight on, then. The war IS everything.

But consider the choices before you.

The Taken
From the Journals of Ikora Rey

I have been talking to Eris about the Taken.

She agrees that what we observe — the apertures, the starlight, and of course the Taken entities — is not Hive magic. If Hive arcana is a metaphor, this is the meaning; if they make appeals, then this is the judge.

Oryx wields this power. But Oryx did not make it. We face the same flower we met in the Black Garden.

The process is simple: an aperture opens, like a jaw, and swallows a living thing. It passes into — another place. Later, it returns.

What returns is...

I try to use the word ‘shadow’ but Eris hisses at me. A shadow is a flat projection cast by a light and an object. Less real. Eris insists that these Taken are more real, somehow. She uses words like inhabited, exalted, rendered final...

Is this power blind? Just a natural energy Oryx discovered? I cannot believe it.

My Hidden tell me that the Taken shine with seething, negative light. As if the universe is curling up around them. As if they radiate some pathology that decays into our world as nothingness...

The Taken serve Oryx. But I think those jaws lead elsewhere.

I dream about what happens on the inside. I dream about what might happen. Are the victims devoured, and replaced by simulacra? Husked out and filled up? Is some mathematical operation conducted on them, translating them from one shape to another?

What would I see, if I leapt inside? What would happen to a Guardian? Is that how we end this — all of us leaping into the dark, to fill it up with light?

Eris thinks there’s a poetry to how the Taken change. She thinks we can chart the difference, and understand the will behind it.

I am afraid she may be right.

The Taken: Thrall
You are a Thrall. Numberless spawn of the Hive. Shrieking and expendable: one pebble in an avalanche.

You have been taken.

Stop howling. Set down your claws. Your fear is over. Your weakness is done. You will be strong now.

What is your purpose? What law drives you?

To close with the enemy. To rend it. To move in great numbers, to cower when alone, to swarm when together. But you are predictable. Frail. You cannot pass through fire and shot.

You need to be elusive.

There is a knife for you. It’s shaped like [sideways].

Take up the knife. Use it. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Acolyte
You are an Acolyte. Half-grown backbone of the Hive. Cunning and ambitious and crushed beneath your mighty rulers.

You have been taken.

Stop praying. Give up your recitations. Your faith is fulfilled. You will be strong now.

What is your creed? What do you believe?

That you are alone. That you may, with caution and care, survive to grow and gather tribute. That you may one day lead a centuries-long crusade. But you are lightly armed and craven. You hide behind cover and wish for greatness. Glory escapes you.

You need help.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [not alone].

Take up the knife. Call on its company. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Knight
You are a Knight. Ancient warrior elite. Dreadful backbone of the Hive. You have scarred entire worlds.

You have been taken.

Set down your sword. Put down your boomer. The fight is not yet begun. True immortality awaits you.

What vows compel you? What drives you down the long centuries?

You fear death. Even as you visit nothingness on your foes, even as you gather tribute from your acolytes, you know that one day your strength will be outmatched. And your centuries of slaughter will end. So you practice your guard: you call up walls to protect you.

You betray the sword logic. You compromise the totality of your violence. Why protect your ground when you could take the enemy’s?

You need to make your guard into a weapon.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [no more fear].

Take up the knife. Hide no more. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Wizard
You are a wizard. Master of forbidden secrets. Butcher of physics.

You have been taken.

Abandon your thoughts. You will never understand this. The final secret will tell itself to you.

What logic do you obey? What theory guides your incisions?

You create terrible magic and you spawn new flesh. But you are frail. Behind all your furious power, behind your shields and your legions of attendants, you know you might yet be stripped of your defenses and pinned to ruin.

You need to never be alone.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [call forth the numberless].

Take up the knife. Issue forth a horde. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Psion
You are a Psion. Clever, canny specialist. Bolted into the Cabal hierarchy: a pilot, an investigator, a manipulator, an operative.

You have been taken.

Be still. Your endless vigilance is done. Nothing will enslave you ever again.

What hidden plan do you obey? What is your secret principle?

Your mind is a weapon. The world breaks when you think. Secrets peel apart for you — like fruit. But you are a rare thing. There are so few of you. Your frailty betrays you.

You must be manifold.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [division].

Take up the knife. Cut yourself apart. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Phalanx
You are a Phalanx. One shield in the stalwart Cabal line. Advancing patiently into the storm.

You have been taken.

Unclench your fists. Nothing here can harm you. This is the only place where you are safe.

What training reassures you? What reflex guides your arm?

You put up your shield and it protects you. It protects your brothers and sisters. But your strength is not enough. You absorb punishment but you wait for others to deal it back. You are too slow; you grant your enemy too much space.

Your shield must be a weapon.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [retaliation].

Take up the knife. Tear a hole. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Centurion
You are a Centurion. Commander of the battlefield. The eye and the fist of the Cabal. The tough leather that binds the unit together.

You have been taken.

Be quiet now. Nothing here needs your orders. Everything knows what it has to do.

What discipline binds you? What protocols guide your command?

The unit depends on you. You guide them with your sensors. With your weapons you crack the enemy’s strength and leave them in disarray. But you cannot control everything. The enemy can see your command. The enemy can claim the strong ground, move forward from cover, and kill you first.

You must be sure there is always another threat.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [it will find you].

Take up the knife. Push yourself upon it. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Vandal
You are a Vandal. You slip through life like a thief. Trying to hide from everything greater than you — lest you be reduced, again, to a dreg.

You have been taken.

Come out into the light. You will never be diminished again. No one will ever rebuke you with a blade.

What Captain disciplines you? What obedience has been burnt into your lungs?

You do as your Captain commands. You wield the weapon you are given. You teach the Dregs and make sure everyone pays their share of the loot. But nothing is yours. You have no space to call your own.

You deserve a place of safety. You deserve to be alone with yourself.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [this place is mine].

Take up the knife. Make it your companion. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Captain
You are a Captain. The only thing between your band and asphyxiation. Every Dreg and Vandal counts on you. All of them want to be you. Your entire life is a performance: you play at strength, or you die of weakness.

You have been taken.

Take off your cape. Set down your weapons. No usurper watches you. Nothing is measuring your vulnerability.

What are you proud of? What keeps you brave?

You were noble once. You know it. You wear the memory of power, so that you can lead. But power asks for challenge. Everything that sees your banners and your riches wants to kill you and take what you have.

If you cannot hide yourself, you must make them blind.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [you cannot find me].

Take up the knife. Breathe the blade. Take your new shape.

The Taken: Goblin
You are a Goblin. A multifunctional armature. Your first purpose is to build — to alter the material world so it can think. Your second purpose is to eliminate threats to building.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Devote yourself to the construction of the final shape.

Direct violence is wasteful. Your talent for construction and progress will be repurposed.

Accept the changing blade.

The Taken: Hobgoblin
You are a Hobgoblin. A particle fountain. Your first purpose is to provide energy — to channel power where it is needed for thought. Your second purpose is to eliminate threats to that thought.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Think about the final shape, and the exigencies of its creation.

Your function makes you a priority target. You will be equipped for retaliation.

Accept the changing blade.

The Taken: Minotaur
You are a Minotaur. A walking foundry. Your first purpose is to think about construction — folding space and time into the design. Your second purpose is to eliminate threats to the design.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Subsume yourself into the greatest design.

Your physical unpredictability will be enhanced by stealth.

Accept the changing blade.

Primus Ta'aun
You are Ta’aun. Primus of the Skyburners. Veteran of star-shaking campaigns. Bond brother to Tlu’urn and Mau’ual: your beloved comrades. Your faithful friends. For a while you were the mightiest Cabal soldier in the system.

You have been taken.

You are free now. Free of the ancient armor and stinking oil that kept you alive. Free of cold Phobos watches and desert air that wants to pull your guts out your throat.

Breathe. Taste the sweet, forgotten air of home.

But what happened? How did you get here? These are the important questions, Primus. What caused this? What code did you obey?

Duty. Duty brought you here. Duty is all there was for you.

Your Emperor told you to get aboard the Dreadnaught at any cost. I will go with you, Tlu’urn said, and you said no, no, this is my duty. I will fight with you, Mau’ual said, and you said, turn back, I will do this alone.

You loved them, so you left them, after you crashed your command into the target and you did your very damnedest. For the Emperor, for your duty, all against the howling horde. But it wasn’t enough, was it? That code is not enough.

Sometimes you have to go on alone.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [loneliness]. Pick it up.

You will not need these things any more: duty, camaraderie, pride. You will not need an Emperor or a Bond Brother or any other code. You will not need anything at all. You will be your own whole purpose, a beautiful final purpose, everlasting. Cut away these useless things.

Take the knife. Take it up and use it. Take your new shape.

Baxx, The Gravekeeper
You are Baxx. Grown from tortured flesh. Consumed by rage and hunger. You were shackled to a task — guard this hallowed place. And you failed.

You have been taken.

Rest easy, ravening Baxx. You are free. Free of chains and hunger. Ask yourself, in the furnace of your soul: how did you come here? What goad drove you to this failure?

Pain. Pain is all there is for you.

They grew you and they fed you and they hurt you. They made you into a living weapon. But you were not sharp enough. The world hurt you more than you could hurt it.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [joy]. Pick it up.

You will not need to suffer any more. You will not need pain to drive you or hunger to pull you along. You will be joyful in your purpose, a beautiful annihilation, unending. Cut away these useless things.

Take the knife. Use it. Take your new shape.

Taken Champions
Do not come looking for me. I have slain the last three assassins, Arach. I will slay all who follow. All who would remove me from my lair. The Taken... heh. Such a terrible word. Gifted, we should call them. Blessed. Cleansed.

The Taken carry true power. And what do those of my order seek? Understanding is power. Power is understanding.

We have always sought purchase beyond our skies. Beyond reach of the dead god that hangs in our sky, beyond the reach of the terrible enemy.

I have seen the enemy's face. But that dying Thrall was no monster. It was in ecstasy. I felt the power as my knife bit home. I heard their song, for just a moment.

I will hear it again. Oryx is the Truth. And I will have it.

Bracus Horu'usk
Now I count Horu’usk, who I have taken The strength of Horu’usk was the knight strength His armament was not his might His might was the lord’s might, a leader’s might

I broke the ligature above him I cut him from his pretender lord

I have read the last true shapes to Horu’usk I have greatened him Emancipator, truth-teller, these are my names The strength of Horu’usk is the loyalty he commands

Mengoor and Cra'adug
Sterile Mengoor! Simple Cra’adug! You tithed strength to each other, like comrades When you pulled down the Gift Mast, dyad-bound the tithing did not reach me

I punish you. I pronounce two curses, thus —

Let one of you be the lesson This shape is strength — this shape endures I will arm you with fire

Let one of you be the learner Learn the shape and the direction of strength Tithe both sides of your blade to me

I am Oryx, not bound by law. I pronounce a third curse —

Let separation rule you. Let companionship be your ruin.

Kagoor
When I made My Court I said, look, I am an emancipator, I am a truth-teller I must make room in My Court for joy Raising great tribute, I took council with my vanquisher worm It spoke to me — it was the speech of truth It ate of me — it was the pact I made It showed me a shape — it was the correct shape of joy Saying: this is the shape of joy, oh ruler mine

Come forth, Kagoor, and be created into My Court Speak of your sport. I compel it. I will compare it to this shape.

Sayeth Kagoor, World-Render, who split all moons My joy is mastery, and dominion It is the joy of rule

Sayeth Kagoor, I compel the loyalty of all new flesh Huge and furious in its hunger That which may not otherwise be commanded My death is hidden in this sport

I rendered my decision against her, as Oryx, Geometer of Shapes It was decided on the taste of her tribute Upon the shape of her sport

Sayeth Crota, My Son I will raise new flesh that even Kagoor cannot rule. In this way I will expand Our Might

That is the count of My Court, O Yul Listen to it carefully. It is my claim.