The Hunger "Have you ever wondered what a soul tastes like, oh bearer mine?" Exotic Scout Rifle Design: I'll leave this largely up to the devs -- or someone with more experience in Destiny art than I have -- but it is an Ahamkara weapon, so there should be Ahamkara bone in the design. Grimore: "Warlock-Denuntiatus Yanj Silatere was one of five Guardians to ever see this weapon. You may know that name. You may know of how he died; of the Fireteam he turned on and killed within the Citadel, sacrificed to the Ahamkara within his weapon. Of the Huntress he loved and who loved him, and who killed him even as he defeated her on the dead grass of the Forgotten Shore. You may know that name. Five Guardians have ever seen this weapon; have ever run their hands along the bone, traced the golden chasing, felt its weight on their back. Two Guardians have ever heard the Ahamkara within the weapon urge them to vengeance; urge them to fight, and soon, when they were not needed anymore, to die. You are the second Guardian to hear those insidious whispers. Do not fall prey to them; do not let the Dragon of Bone consume you as it has consumed so many others. You, by taking up the Ahamkara Weapon -- The Hunger, the Consumer of Souls -- you have taken Yanj's burden onto yourself. In the name of the Light, what you have done? What have you done?" Intrinsic Perk: Burst Fire: This weapon fires in two-round bursts. Tree Perks: Void Rounds Headseeker Hidden Hand Exotic Perks (choose between): To Devour...: Every kill, this weapon's cyclic fire rate increases a small amount. Stacks up to +40% to the base fire rate. Procs on precision kills, but resets if 15 seconds have passed since the last kill.The Stability is also slightly greater than the base gun. ...Or To Consume: Every precision kill, you gain a small amount of your health back. You also gain extra Super energy. However, your Impact is less than the base gun, and Burst Fire deactivates. ---- Ghost Fragment: The Hunger 1 (Found in the Tower) It was a dark night in the Cosmodrome. Shattered, rusting hulks of ships loomed over the path, which twisted and turned through the Forgotten Shore. Upon that path walked a single Guardian, a single Warlock, with a rifle -- decorated with the bones of an Ahamkara, chased with gold, and whispering with invisible power (you do not transcribe) -- cradled in his gauntleted hands like a child. Fallen eyes watched from the darkness, from inside the desiccated remnants of a Golden Age, but they did not approach the lone Warlock. They could scent the spilled Ether on his robe; the invisible crackle of Servitor-power trailing behind him like a shroud. The Guardian turned, his gaze sweeping over the wrecks, and the Fallen melted into the shadows from whence they came. Finally, the Warlock approached his destination; a overhang, a cliff overlooking the remnants of the sea these ships once sailed on. And as the ethereal moon passed behind the clouds yet again, the Warlock turned, shifting his weight to one side... just enough to avoid the throwing knife that sped past his helm, its blade barely visible by starlight. Another Guardian rose from the underbrush; a Hunter, expertly camouflaged. At her hip was a hand cannon; she did not draw it. She did not need to. And the Warlock shifted his weight again; almost anxious. Nervous. It was like the first time they had met. In a different place. A different time. Now, the gulf of words and deeds separated the two; blood, and not that of the Darkness, stained the Warlock's hands. He folded those hands behind his back now, and spoke, setting down his rifle onto the dead grass. "Cassandra. So, the Vanguard sent you? Of all people?" The Warlock did not take his helmet off, and the orange glow of his visor regarded her impassively. But perhaps -- perhaps, in that moment -- he may have felt betrayed. (You do not record.) The Hunter looks at the Warlock now; not like before, but with something approaching an impossible hunger -- a want. (You do not record what the hunger is.) "If this could be different..." She trails off. It cannot be different. She knows this. (You do not admit it. Nor did -- does -- she.) One sought the Name of the Darkness; the mysteries of the Worm-Gods, the nature of Rasputin's deep code. He sought to embrace the false-light of Oryx's God-Star, as Toland once did of Crota's; to understand the Great Conflict at its deepest level. Knowledge destroyed him. The other sought a life free of the Darkness; a life where she could live, love, roam the endless plains of the Solar System without fear or apology. She found another; she found her love. And her love took her where she could not go, and in the end, did not follow. (Before the end, you do not realize.) Love destroyed her. ----- Ghost Fragment: The Hunger 2 (Found in the Tower, but only appears after obtaining The Hunger) The two regard each other one last time; impossible geometries writhe around the Warlock's gauntlets, and his visor is lit with a dying sun. He does not speak, and she sees him not as Yanj Silatere, Warlock of a dead order, lover, friend, and he sees her not as Cassandra-3, Hunter of the endless wastes, lover, friend, and she does not speak. They are in the land beyond names now. A Taken does not have a name. A Cabal Legionary does not have a name; in that instant between when your finger releases the trigger and when your gun kicks against your shoulder, you do not have a name. Her hand drops to her hip, and the Ahamkara Weapon rises as an extension of his arm. In one fluid movement, the dance begins. The eternal, indescribable dance, and as a bullet from the Hunter's hand cannon whips by the Warlock's head, the Warlock almost smiles. He knows what to do now. All Guardians know the steps of the dance of battle. But few Guardians have ever danced like this. The firearms ring out in staccato chorus; the Hunter's faceplate scored by the Ahamkara Weapon's rage (for a race destroyed, for brothers and sisters killed -- you will not record), the Warlock's left arm hanging numb at his side, trickles of warm blood running away from his veins. And finally, the dance slows. The dance never truly ends. (You do not record this. You do not want to record this. You may have anyway.) The Warlock holds the Hunter; his touch tender, his voice quiet. She holds him as well; the two, intertwined for the last time. Both are mortally wounded; the white of bone and the spark of Exo machinery visible through shattered armor. "Open your eyes," one says. "Close your eyes," the other says. "You do not want to know." "I brought myself here by knowing too much," the other replies. There is a last moment of silence (of mourning, you did not transcribe) before two shots ring out in perfect synchronicity, two fingers tightening on triggers worn by years of eternal combat against the Darkness and -- in the end -- each other. No Ghost stands by to revive them. No Light but the Greater Light awaits them, together in death as they never could be in life. Perhaps that was for the best. (You do not record this. You do not read this. You do not know this.) In the end, they were both free of The Hunger. You have taken the Hunger into yourself; you have embraced it. In the name of the Light, what you have done? What have you done? ------ I'd love your feedback and constructive criticism! Please vote in the poll and reply below!