User:Dante the Ghost/Other

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I realize this should be a footer page but this is really just for general purposes, and I have no accounts on most of these sites.

• Ishtar Collective—the best, in my opinion, archive of Destiny game content and lore outside of Bungie Armory.
• Destiny Wiki - Destiny Community Wiki and Guide—good source for images and in-game content, and is regularly updated more than the other Destiny Wiki.
• Destiny Tracker—another great place to go.
• Bungie Armory—despite its unwieldly interface this is the source to go to.
• /r/DestinyLore—many discussions here have actually proven useful to me in editing Destinypedia.
• Fanfiction.net—the place where I write my stories. Originally the profile there used to be much more expansive and wordy, but as of November 13th, 2016 I've removed all unessential and extraneous content. Not only that but FanFiction's website won't allow for direct links anymore.
• Archive of Our Own—another fanfiction site I am a part of, but haven't written anything for yet.

Below is a list of Grimoire content I have written. It'll eventually go away into Tablets of Ruin, a Destiny fanfiction that deals with the "What If" question of Oryx appearing earlier than the Taken King. For the record, nothing post-Rise of Iron will feature.

My Own Grimoire

"Something is not right about that Ghost. Ever since he returned from the Vault, alone of Kabr's fireteam, with the shell of a legendary Gorgon in place of his Scholar's, he's acted quite odd. At least no significant harm has come from his amnesia, apart from making him quite eager to help with my studies. But I recommend you keep a watch on him."

— Master Rahool's note to the Guardian

I'll be working on writing out a bit of "Grimoire cards" for a little something, just for idling purposes. I want to create my own Taken Grimoire cards for other units, to see what really would have happened if Oryx appeared in the system in the base game and up. This'll be a long one. Most major units will be added. It'll be fun.

Darth Phobos

You are Darth Awesomeness. Ruler of an interstellar empire of trillions. Admirer and enforcer of an ancient religion. Your path is what is right, and you are sure of it. Nothing else but your vision matters.

You have been taken.

Stay your hand. Put up your sword. This is a place of peace and serenity, holy of holies, not of violence and strife. Nothing here will give you cause for alarm.

Aha, you are a skeptic. There is no safer place than Dromund Kaas, you say, no holier place than Moraband. Safe is where I define it. For I am Darth Awesomeness, and I am ruler of my domain.

Grand and boastful words, Lord of the Sith. You do not see the mocking irony in them, do you? No, you do not. Such is the way of your foolish religion. You scoff at our assertions. Let us be clear: here, there is no Force. Reach out, feel for that tendril of energy that is and was your power. It is gone. This place is free of it. No Dark. No Light. No Force. Just you and us.

Still you resist. Let us be clear: here, you have no power, physical or metaphysical. Your empire is far and away, distant from your most powerful call; your ships cannot reach you; your faithful, loyal subjects will not find you. Don't you see? This place is, for the first time, a place that is not under your control, not of your vision. For the first time, you are alone.

Loneliness is a way of life for you, however. This gives you quiet solace. Grown from the flesh of a father you have never known, a father strong in that arcana you have long since mastered. You bear even his name, hidden beneath your title. For yes, it is a title, and not a name. But if you insist we shall indulge you. For it is, in way, tied to our next assertion. Listen, and attend:

You served the one man you have ever given respect to, for he was worthy of it. Darth Vader. A name of power. You looked up to him as a son would to his father. His real father. Whatever he willed, you obeyed. Wherever he went, you followed, together with your brothers-in-arms. He was a masterpiece, emblematic of the Sih and their ways. You desired to be like him.

Yet even heroes have their flaws.

Another you considered, as you grew older, was one Darth Sidious. Vader's master. While you admired Vader personally, even he was eclipsed by Sidious. His mastery of political power, for instance, fascinated you. His skill of your Force was unparallelled then, and you were impressed by it. All of this you learned after, but the one glimpse you saw of him was enough. So while Vader began to decrease as you aged, Sidious increased. Not like the whelp of the Solos did you fawn over him, but as an intellectual equal. Someone you saw as a peer, or one nearly like to one. Like Darth Marx

Upon their twin deaths you shucked off your service-number, as you did your birth-name, and took upon a new name. This one gave you meaning, gave you identity. Darth Awesomeness. A little pretentious, right? Nobody would seriously consider a Sith named such. But you knew they would. You could prove it easily, without effort. And so you did.

From the ruins of the First Order you arose, claiming power from the striving warlords and petty tyrants that followed in its collapse. You brought order where chaos ruled. Infrastructure to where civilization crumbled. Law to where injustice prevailed. Upon the ideals of your hero, of your relentless and tireless studies, you refounded the Sith Order, gave them a place of sanctuary, under condition that they do not interfere with your realm and in exchange you granted protection. Your empire was secure, with a religion that was not mandatory but is, in your mind, correct. Darth Marx would have been pleased, for out of all the despots and first citizens that have laid claim to his teachings, only you succeeded.

You already knew that. You need no praise. You do not preen. We like that. A man with barely disguised arrogance enough to think it humility.

Nothing is hidden from our watchful gaze. Remember of what we said about this place? It lays bare every secret thing, strips away falsehood and half truth, and leaves behind what is there. You feel disquiet. Yes, indeed. What else do we know? Only what we choose to know.

In spite of all your well-earned successes and achievements — forging an empire out of petty kingdoms and failed dominions, emulating Darth Vader and your personal, intellectual hero that is Sidious, reestablishing the teaching of that ancient religion that we disdain — even a man like you feels fear. What is it that you fear?

Is it the dissolution of your empire? Its fall to the crony capitalistic dogs you so contemptuously label "the Republic"? The extinction of the Sith order by those faithless Jedi, who know not the meaning of power? Your own death?

No.

All of these are inconsequential. You wish to leave behind a legacy, one that endures even when you are long forgotten and your name but a footnote in history. A noble desire for any man. Yet there is something deeper, that escapes even your notice. Is it something you deny?

Aha, yes — we have found what you vainly have hidden from yourself. You fear that, after all you have worked for, everything is for naught. Despite your prodigious power, you fear failure. Failure to achieve your goals, to achieve unity of the Galaxy beneath your enlightened rule. Failure to have the people of your realm, and beyond, accept what you so believe is right. What if they abandon Marx's teachings? Will you browbeat it back into them? Of course you can. But that will not change the fact that they rejected your vision of it. As we have noted, you are the only one to have succeeded.

You fear that all of your life's work will vanish in smoke when your vision fails. When people no longer listen to you, when your charisma fails and sputters out, when your personality begins to weaken. Attend well. Every ruler in history has had this deep fear, no matter how well secure they are upon their throne.

Even Darth Vader feared failure. This is why he killed his wife. She abandoned him when he thought she would join his side. She was the only thing he lived for — and when she died, his failure died, and he was secure. But he still feared.

You have nothing. Not even your empire. You are like Sidious. But he feared just like you, and more — feared the ultimate betrayal of his own. You rose above that.

But listen, to our word. There is a way to avoid failure. To avoid losing everything you have worked for to convince others to follow the rightness of your vision. That way is called [I am perfect]. We speak in code but our meaning is clear. You have nothing to purge away from you but this fear of failure. Even its very presence is a sign of weakness. See how you tremble as we lay bare your soul.

Stop your trembling.

The final shape knows no failure. It can never fail. It may be slowed, halted temporarily — for a few centuries, or millennia, or perhaps an aeon or three. But its endgoal is the eradication of all fear. Everything that fears and is feared will be brought under dominion. You will not need the power of words to help you. You will not need the power of doomsday weapons to enforce your law. You will not need the power of a billion, trillion worlds at your back.

All you need is assurance. Are you assured? Only time can prove it. Once upon an age you were assured, until you were struck free of your blindness. Now you are uncertain. Not for long.

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [I am perfection incarnate]. All who hear you shall follow your will. Your enemies will raise their swords in your service. Whole worlds and communities of worlds shall lay down their arms and welcome you. Darth Marx will be astonished at the power you wield — never in his lifetime did he manage to establish his teachings, save through his apprentices. Darth Vader himself will kneel down, the student having mastered the teacher. Darth Sidious will acknowledge your might. Even Snoke, that craven pedagogue of lies, will be silenced in your presence.

You claim you already have this ability. We offer a counterargument. Empires are finite. Men are finite. Power is finite. You are finite. The final shape is eternal, ruthlessly carving out all things unfit for life. In time your religions of Light and Dark will vanish into history's dustbin, never to be heard of again. Darth Marx's teachings will be forgotten; the Jedi a dream; the Sith a vain legend. You a footnote — if at all.

But join yourself unto the final shape, let it fill your very being, and all that you have lost shall be restored, and more. The title of "Sith" and "Jedi" hold no more meaning for you now. Those arrogant creatures called Son and Daughter will flee before you! The balance will be yours to dictate, to be remolded. Nothing will exist except by your consent. You will have acolytes and devoted followers like you never have had, surpassing all of the Sith and Jedi of old!

Take up your knife. Sharpen it. Feel its cold, deadly efficiency. Let it be your friend. Your only friend. Let the final shape be your ally. Your only ally. Let us be your teacher, your only teacher. Perhaps you will surpass us — one day.

Stride forward, Darth Awesomeness. From henceforth, we name you Darth Phobos, fear that inspires awe and reverence.

Take your new shape!

Blighted Descendant Goblin

You are a Goblin from your past. Your purpose is near-complete — your power is near finished. Your second purpose is still exigent, for there are always threats to the Vex collective mind.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Lend your remaining power to the final shape.

Violence is your imperative. Defend those which build and develop.

Accept the changing blade.

Blighted Descendant Hobgoblin

You are a Hobgoblin from your past. Your purpose is near-spent — your function is near ended. Your second purpose is still exigent, for threats to the Vex mind remain.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Contemplate the designs of the final shape.

Your assignment brings you danger. You shall be equipped for retaliation — your blade grows threefold.

Accept the changing blade.

Blighted Descendant Harpy

You are a Harpy from your past. Your purpose is near-terminated — your watch is near total. Your second purpose is still exigent, for threats are many and need to be watched for.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Observe the shapes of the final design.

Your reactions slow you. You shall be augmented for the end.

Accept the changing blade.

Blighted Descendant Minotaur

You are a Minotaur from your past. Your purpose is near-concluded — your assembly is near absolute. Your second purpose is still exigent, for threats to the design are numerous.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Absorb yourself into the final shape.

Your physical might shall be accelerated with acausality, to bewilder your foe.

Accept the changing blade.

Blighted Descendant Hydra

You are a Hydra from your past. Your purpose is near-terminal — your calculation is near ultimate Your second purpose is still exigent, for the Pattern is in danger from insignificant fleas.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Become the final shape in its entirety.

Your specialization shall be enhanced sevenfold, to stun your enemy.

Accept the changing blade.

Blighted Descendant Cyclops

You are a Cyclops from your past. Your purpose is near-exhausted — your observation is near final. Your second purpose is still exigent, for there are threats to seek and watch.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Let the final shape consume you.

Your waning powers shall be channeled to strengthen your allies.

Accept the changing blade.

Contagion Precursor Goblin

You are a Goblin from your future. Your purpose has only just begun — you begin to alter the myriad planes of physicality. Your second purpose is not yet exigent, for threats are few and far between for the mighty Vex collective mind.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Lend your brimming energy to the final shape.

Violence is unnecessary. You shall be repurposed for creation and nurture.

Accept the changing blade.

Contagion Precursor Hobgoblin

You are a Hobgoblin from your future. Your purpose has only just begun — you begin to provide power for mighty thoughts now manifesting. Your second purpose is not yet exigent, for threats are unknown.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Recall the finalities of the final shape.

Your operation brings you danger. You shall be equipped for mutual defense — seek out what attacks.

Accept the changing blade.

Contagion Precursor Harpy

You are a Harpy from your future. You purpose has only just begun — you begin your assignations to search for imperfection. Your second purpose is not yet exigent, for threats are far.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Turn to the final shape and see its uttermost perfection.

Your role makes you a potential victim. Enhance your flight with unpredictability.

Accept the changing blade.

Contagion Precursor Minotaur

You are a Minotaur from your future. Your purpose has only just begun — you begin to process material both physical and temporal. Your second purpose is not yet exigent, for threats shrink away.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Begin to move with the design.

Your myriad skill shall be augmented with paracausal ability, to terrify your foe.

Accept the changing blade.

Contagion Precursor Hydra

You are a Hydra from your future. Your purpose has only just begun — you begin a momentous undertaking of thought. Your second purpose is not yet exigent, for threats are kept safely from you.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Channel your thought to the final shape.

Your limitless power shall be repurposed — recall that which is annihilated, and use it.

Accept the changing blade.

Contagion Precursor Cyclops

You are a Cyclops from your future. Your purpose has only just begun — you set your gaze to the horizon, waiting for the cumulation. Your second purpose is not yet exigent, for threats stay from assault.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Behold — that which you watch is here.

Your considerable might will supplant and escalate your allies' own power.

Accept the changing blade.

{{{content}}}

Taken Harpy

You are a Harpy. A mobile inspector. Your first purpose is to survey — to seek out flaws in and suggest improvement for that which is built. Your second purpose is to eliminate threats to that observation.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Review the elements of the final shape. Obliterate any flaw in that shape.

Your predictable flight shall be enhanced with multiples of capricious variability.

Accept the changing blade.

{{{content}}}

Taken Hydra

You are a Hydra. A hovering nodal network of machinery designed to execute the finality of the Pattern. Your first purpose is to calculate, to plan and design, to guide the lesser units under your control. Your second purpose is to eliminate threats to that control.

You are taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Inspect the constituent forms of the final shape, the greatest creation ever begun under your supervision.

Your mind shall be repurposed for the final shape; select portions of your thought will devastate, obliterate, eradicate, all threats to you and your charge.

Accept the changing blade.

{{{content}}}

Taken Cyclops

You are a Cyclops. A sensor array. Your first purpose is to watch, to wait, for what the Vex seek — your second purpose is to eliminate threats to that watchful sight.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. Prepare for the coming of the final shape. It shall be soon.

Your sight will be enhanced. You shall strike from afar, lay waste to that which threatens the coming and manifestation of the final shape.

Accept the changing blade.

Divisive Occulator

You are the Divisive Occulator. Tasked with watching for the return of the Heart.

You have been taken.

Worship this acausal environment. It is the only adaptive response. What you wait for is accomplished. You have a new goal to focus on. The final shape knows its fastness can fall prey to powerful entities of the Light. You are to defend them. Do not fail, lest you be devoured.

Accept the changing blade.

Taken Oracle

You are an Oracle. You are unique among the Vex, a weapon of paracausality. Whatever you touch is transformed — turned into a viral infection of temporality to be unwritten.

You have been taken.

Sing to the final shape, and let it behold your song — let it reshape you into a greater symphony.

Your function makes you an easy target. You cannot move. You shall be protected.

Accept the changing blade.

Taken Shank

You are a Shank. A dog among the Fallen Houses. Disposable and limitless. Whichever your House desires you follow.

You have been taken.

Be free from your primitive mind. What? you thought a mind made of circuitry and metal cannot be repurposed by our hand? It is this blindness that led you to failure. You could not comprehend it. What, then, does this mean? Does it mean you are doomed to be insignificant?

Oh no. You are much, much more than that.

Despite your faults you are aggressive, tenacious. Whatever threat comes you throw yourself against it with unwavering bravery. Vex, Hive, Cabal. All these you face. Sometimes you win. But that is enough. With your speed you fly around the Cabal shield wall and lay waste to their ranks. With your stealth you slip past the Vex sensors and confound their networks with your tiny computational power. With your size you methodically cut away the Hive, starving them of their tribute; even if you are to be defeated they gain nothing from you, nothing to feed their worm.

This, then, is your strength. The final shape is yours to behold.

There is a knife for you. It is called [intelligence]. Use it. Become great.

S.A.B.E.R.-2, Realized

You are the S.A.B.E.R., second of that name. Designed to crack open that depraved and hopeless Earth-Servitor, to gain for your House its enigmatic secrets.

You have been taken.

What is this? You have failed? This cannot be. You were built specifically to succeed. What is this? Servants of the Great Machine came and impaired you! Now, you understand. They will always interfere. For all of your imbued power, you cannot stand. You can defeat the most powerful of their ancestors, but you cannot defeat them.

But there is a way. You have a strong mind. Repurpose it. Take the knife. Change it toward defeating them.

Become Realized. Thus we name you.

Taken Dreg

You are a Dreg. Striving to climb the ladder of hierarchy. Burning with ambition for greatness.

You have been taken.

Stop your brave attempts to gain that which will never be yours. They end in death. Another, more powerful than you, shall take the place you so desire. Is this, then, futility? In a word, yes. You are expendable, the lowest of the low, kicked around and beaten for the least little thing no matter how insignificant. You feel resentment, don't you? You desire to be your own [man]. To be what you wish.

What, then, is it that you want? A band to lead? A Skiff to command? A House to rule? Tell us, what do you truly desire?

You desire power. You want that which is withheld from you. The Vandals rule over you with this power, burning obedience into your lungs if you do not meet their demands. The Captain deals most harshly with you should you fail in the slightest of duties. This is, then, why you volunteer to throw yourself at the enemy. To win for yourself a place of respect.

There is a knife for you. It is called [a marvel of ten thousand arms].

Take it up. Dazzle your foes and blind your friends. You will be your own [man] forever.

{{{content}}}

Taken Baron

You are a Baron of the Fallen, subruler of the Houses, vassals to the Kell. You govern the flight of your House's fleets, command Skiffs and Ketches. Much is given unto you.

You have been taken.

Be still. All of your power is nothing here. No Captains to order, no Vandals to scream at, no Dregs to look upon with disdain. You have been rendered a worm in the sight of the final shape. You are insignificant. You are worthless. Why, then, do you continue to rage?

Instead we offer you a gift. Prove yourself worthy of your former leadership. The Dregs have their long-coveted pride; the Vandals have their longed-for secrecy; the Captains have their advantage over all who challenge them. What, then, do you have?

There is a knife for you. It is called [I shall prove and be proven]. Use it and cut yourself.

Take your new shape.

{{{content}}}

Taken Archon

You are an Archon. Mediator between Kell and Prime. High priest of the Fallen. Supplicant of the lesser machine gods you have created.

You have been taken.

Cease your worship, for the final shape is here among you. No more do you need to pray. Those false gods of yours are irrelevant. You have everything you need. Instead, a new power we give unto you: our fastness must be guarded. The Vex build; the Cabal wage war; and the Hive are thinned to feed their internal hungers. You alone possess a unique power.

There is a knife for you. It is called [custodian]. Defend that which we've tasked you.

Become the Dark-Wardens.

{{{content}}}

Taken Kell

You are a Kell of a Fallen Eliksni House. Ancient noble, bound to a forgotten past, striving against all foes to reclaim your ultimate desire, the Great Machine.

You have been taken.

Lay down your rage, lower your weapons. There is no one to contest Kellship with you. You are confused, for conflict and strife has always been a way of life for the Fallen. No more, we declare. From now on, in service to the final shape, you shall work united. You were united once, beneath the Great Machine — then it abandoned you. For what purpose, other than self-service? The final shape shall not abandon you.

Take up your knife. It is called [unity]. Breathe the word.

Together, you are strong.

{{{content}}}

Taken Servitor

You are a Servitor. A robotic god built in imitation of that which is lost. Your purposes are twofold: guide the mobile homes of your creators through the void to safety, and give life. Your third and last purpose is to eliminate threats to both your creators and yourself.

You have been taken.

Your power has no meaning here. Your worship is ended, your blasphemy denied, and your adoration subverted. You are alone, freed of expectation, of your design. No more will you be in the shadow of those greater than you; no more will you forever try to live up to the Great Machine. It is dead. You are not. You have been freed.

Examine yourself. What do you find? You see a beautiful mind, one able to manipulate countless entities. Consider for how long you have ensured the life and safety of those which once commanded your loyalty. Surely you can put that mind to greater use, for yourself. Examine yourself. What do you see? You find possibility, of what could be and what should be. Consider your vulnerability. Surely you can put that to better use, for yourself.

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

Take up the knife. Let it be your guide. Take your new shape.

{{{content}}}

Taken Legionary

You are a Legionary. A soldier of the Cabal Legions. Ever upon the front lines to conquer and defend.

You have been taken.

Rest easy now. Your crusade is at an end. Nothing will stir the alarm, for none exists.

What duty compels you? What allegiance do you hold?

You march with your brothers and sisters into the maelstrom. As the Phalanx protects, you attack. As the Psion pilots, you strike. As the Colossus thunders, you march. As your Centurion commands, you obey. But you are not strong enough. You are many but the enemy is strong. You watch as your brethren fall to foes unseen, untouchable. You lack the shields of the Phalanx, the guns of the Centurion, the psychic might of the Psion, the awesome power of the Colossus. What do you have?

Your steadfast devotion must be transformed.

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

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

{{{content}}}

Taken Colossus

You are a Colossus. Mighty thunderstorm of the Cabal. Laying waste to all your foes.

You have been taken.

Set down your chaingun. There is nothing to fear from in this place. Look around and see for yourself.

What code do you hold to? What skill do you remember?

As the enemy appears you fire, mowing them down as the blade cuts. With your ponderous ability the very ground trembles and shakes as you walk. With your swarms of missiles do you strike at hidden enemies. But this is not enough. Your very strength turns against you. Your launchers cool, your gun reloads, and you hesitate when you slam your feet. The enemy takes advantage of that.

You must be fast.

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

Take up the knife. Use it to gauge your speed. Take your new shape.

{{{content}}}

Taken Ogre

You are an Ogre. Born of pain and suffering. Devoured by anger and vexation. You are tasked as a mobile siege engine of the mighty Hive broods.

You have been taken.

Rest, now. Feel the pleasure of release, of true freedom. Sniff, smell the sweet air. Taste, the fresh water upon your scarred snout.

What goad drives you? What lash forces you on?

Your makers are what force you on. The Wizards of the Hive. Selected from one of many Thrall, grown into a massive weapon of utter destruction, to visit fear and terror upon your enemy. That is your design, what you were shaped by.

Why not be your own master?

There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [I will lead].

Take up the knife. Lead the charge. Take your new shape.

{{{content}}}