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[[File:Ecdysis.png|thumb|300px|right|Ecdysis]]
[[File:LoreEcdysis.png|300px|thumb]]
'''Ecdysis''' is a [[Lore]] book introduced in ''[[Joker's Wild]]''. It tells the story of the [[Awoken]] [[Titan (class)|Titan]] [[Orin]] and how she became an Emissary of the [[Nine]]. Entries are unlocked by completing the [[Invitations from the Nine]].
'''Ecdysis''' is a [[Lore]] book introduced in ''[[Season of the Drifter]]''. It tells the story of the [[Awoken]] [[Titan (class)|Titan]] [[Orin]] and how she became an Emissary of the [[Nine]]. Entries are unlocked by completing the [[Invitations from the Nine]].
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Orin graduates from wooden mace to stolen [[Scorch Cannon]], from bare flesh to salvaged plate. The Fallen do not interest her, but they are well-provisioned. She hunts them to better hunt Warlords, and makes many enemies of many older, wilier Risen than she.
Orin graduates from wooden mace to stolen [[Scorch Cannon]], from bare flesh to salvaged plate. The Fallen do not interest her, but they are well-provisioned. She hunts them to better hunt Warlords, and makes many enemies of many older, wilier Risen than she.


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They laugh about it later over weak tea and hardtack.
They laugh about it later over weak tea and hardtack.


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When the Guard invites her to join them, they present her with a war hammer. It is as tall as she is. Along its grip, they've engraved the words I AM THE END OF ALL THINGS in tidy block print.
When the Guard invites her to join them, they present her with a war hammer. It is as tall as she is. Along its grip, they've engraved the words I AM THE END OF ALL THINGS in tidy block print.


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"Why aren't they here?" she asks, but he has no answer.
"Why aren't they here?" she asks, but he has no answer.


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There are stories of a massive settlement in the far south. Rumors call it "[[The Last City|The Last Safe City]]," a place of peace and prosperity guarded by indestructible Old Russian warriors who fight alongside twenty-foot-tall wolves (whatever those are).
There are stories of a massive settlement in the far south. Rumors call it "[[The Last City|The Last Safe City]]," a place of peace and prosperity guarded by [[Iron Lords|indestructible Old Russian warriors]] who fight alongside twenty-foot-tall wolves (whatever those are).


The Pilgrim Guard has heard of many so-called safe cities. They come and go, but mostly they go.
The Pilgrim Guard has heard of many so-called safe cities. They come and go, but mostly they go.
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Orin hopes the rumors are true, but it is a selfish hope: If the city is real, and people are safe there, then maybe she can rest.
Orin hopes the rumors are true, but it is a selfish hope: If the city is real, and people are safe there, then maybe she can rest.


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The Traveler looms overhead as Orin wanders through it all, wide-eyed and exhilarated.
The Traveler looms overhead as Orin wanders through it all, wide-eyed and exhilarated.


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The Pilgrim Guard prepares to move out, provisioned to make an eighteen-month expedition through the far north. Orin stays behind. No one questions her decision, though they do grieve it. Each one of them cuts a notch into the grip of her war hammer until it reads I I I I I I I I I AM THE END OF ALL THINGS.
The Pilgrim Guard prepares to move out, provisioned to make an eighteen-month expedition through the far north. Orin stays behind. No one questions her decision, though they do grieve it. Each one of them cuts a notch into the grip of her war hammer until it reads I I I I I I I I I AM THE END OF ALL THINGS.


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At her final question, he hesitates. He runs a grimy hand through his hair and looks up at the stars. They have been talking a long time. "If we're going to talk some more," he says at last, "we might as well have a drink."
At her final question, he hesitates. He runs a grimy hand through his hair and looks up at the stars. They have been talking a long time. "If we're going to talk some more," he says at last, "we might as well have a drink."


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Most of all, Orin is struck by his ability to listen with empathy. He is quiet more often than not. Long silences don't frighten him. And when he speaks, he does it deftly, without condescension.
Most of all, Orin is struck by his ability to listen with empathy. He is quiet more often than not. Long silences don't frighten him. And when he speaks, he does it deftly, without condescension.


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They are scarcely a half-day's burn toward [[Interamnia]] before they are intercepted by [[Ceres Galliot|Galliots]] painted in the Queen's colors.
They are scarcely a half-day's burn toward [[Interamnia]] before they are intercepted by [[Ceres Galliot|Galliots]] painted in the Queen's colors.


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She claps him on the shoulder and smiles. "My man."
She claps him on the shoulder and smiles. "My man."


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Mara smiles faintly. "No."
Mara smiles faintly. "No."


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The revelations are absolute in their terror. Orin has never felt such a profound sense of schism—not when learning that most mortals would sooner swallow cyanide pills than come face-to-face with a Risen, nor that the Eliksni were once abandoned by the Traveler, nor that almost all Warlords are Lightbearers.
The revelations are absolute in their terror. Orin has never felt such a profound sense of schism—not when learning that most mortals would sooner swallow cyanide pills than come face-to-face with a Risen, nor that the Eliksni were once abandoned by the Traveler, nor that almost all Warlords are Lightbearers.


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Orin is glad to see her friends doing so well. She does not rejoin them.
Orin is glad to see her friends doing so well. She does not rejoin them.


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Centuries pass.
Centuries pass.


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It is the first time she dares to trust a Guardian. It will not be the last.
It is the first time she dares to trust a Guardian. It will not be the last.


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At last, Mara says, "First, to know." She gives Orin the [[strange coin]] that the search party found on Sjur's body. "I'm not sure it was a murder."
At last, Mara says, "First, to know." She gives Orin the [[strange coin]] that the search party found on Sjur's body. "I'm not sure it was a murder."


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"Orin!" Gol warns, but she's already seen it. She hefts her war hammer and strikes him hard in the chest. It is like hitting a ball off of a tee; there is no resistance. He caroms off of a dewy boulder with a sickening crunch—that is his spine; he will never stand straight again—and as he hits the ground, a tarnished silver jar slips from his fingers. The sound echoes as it bounces away into the dark.
"Orin!" Gol warns, but she's already seen it. She hefts her war hammer and strikes him hard in the chest. It is like hitting a ball off of a tee; there is no resistance. He caroms off of a dewy boulder with a sickening crunch—that is his spine; he will never stand straight again—and as he hits the ground, a tarnished silver jar slips from his fingers. The sound echoes as it bounces away into the dark.


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It is not horrifying, though she thinks it should be. Instead, it is unspeakably lonely.
It is not horrifying, though she thinks it should be. Instead, it is unspeakably lonely.


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She hunts for herself.
She hunts for herself.


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She does not find out for months.
She does not find out for months.


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Wu Ming is a bonfire in the darkness, and she crawls toward his warmth.
Wu Ming is a bonfire in the darkness, and she crawls toward his warmth.


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Wu Ming leaves his questions by the wayside as he is drawn inexorably into the gravity well of her desperate honesty. Her confessions lower his defenses. He talks of himself. Of his fear. Of his loneliness. How he feels he is one fingernail away from plummeting into an abyss. How he feels vicious resentment every time he is brought back from the dead: He never asked for the gift of the [[Light]].
Wu Ming leaves his questions by the wayside as he is drawn inexorably into the gravity well of her desperate honesty. Her confessions lower his defenses. He talks of himself. Of his fear. Of his loneliness. How he feels he is one fingernail away from plummeting into an abyss. How he feels vicious resentment every time he is brought back from the dead: He never asked for the gift of the [[Light]].


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They make excuse after excuse to meet again. Every conversation is colored by excavated truths; every day they feel they will reach some bedrock that will break them to pieces. It is as frightening as it is intoxicating.
They make excuse after excuse to meet again. Every conversation is colored by excavated truths; every day they feel they will reach some bedrock that will break them to pieces. It is as frightening as it is intoxicating.


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She cannot mend this!
She cannot mend this!


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On the day she leaves to find the Nine, the [[Techeun]]s name her Orin the Lost. She raids a storeroom in the Vestian Outpost, stuffing into her knapsack digital schematics for a phaeton backscatter scanner, a jade coin, several bundles of dried queensfoil, and nothing more.
On the day she leaves to find the Nine, the [[Techeun]]s name her Orin the Lost. She raids a storeroom in the Vestian Outpost, stuffing into her knapsack digital schematics for a phaeton backscatter scanner, a jade coin, several bundles of dried queensfoil, and nothing more.


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A sudden death.
A sudden death.


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