Nope. Still don't see it.

A Kell cut off his arms. He built himself new ones. Then he killed the Kell with them.

The grief and horror of Twilight Gap drove some of the finest gunsmiths in the City to elevate their art.

All things are done in her name.

The engine of devastation slumbers within - waiting for a worthy finger on the trigger.

An auto rifle, modified by Dead Orbit's superb technicians and specialists.

You'll never catch it. But that's not the point.

Rumor has it that Red Death prototypes are circulating in the Crucible once again.

A precision auto rifle left behind by Toland, the Shattered. It asks so little, and it offers so much.

"In the Hive ways of old he challenged Oryx. He failed." —Eris Morn

…is better than the last.

Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

A fusion rifle, modified by Dead Orbit's superb technicians and specialists.

But I still remember.

Everything flows.

Combat plasma discharge is no matter for amateurs.

We honor your sacrifice.

An advanced energy weapon, named and sanctified by the leaders of the Future War Cult.

Executor-issued hand cannon for loyal supporters of the New Monarchy.

Brood, baby, brood.

One day, young hawk, thou shalt sail beneath the silvered moon.

Commissioned for those who would avenge the lost.

…once-mighty wings, now dewy and fragile and new, as again the silken threads encased its...

The Lord will hold court today.

Let's make a deal…

Repent! Repent!

The king is dead.

"To crack open that depraved Earth-Servitor. To use its secrets to reclaim the Great Machine..." —Translated from Fallen Language

Your bones… I will crush them.

Beholden to no one.

Tossed upon the seas of war and tragedy.

Executor-issued machine gun for loyal supporters of the New Monarchy.

Before you, only victory. Behind you, only conquest.

Hunger is the all of it, and it is all of hunger.

A heavy-fire weapon, named and sanctified by the leaders of the Future War Cult.

Ready for one breed of armageddon.

You can see everything. You can unsee nothing.

A sniper rifle, modified by Dead Orbit's superb technicians and specialists.

A weapon carried by the Vestian Guard in their fight against the Taken.

Ballistic heartbreak.

One day, the flowers will grow again.

Closer Than You Think

Stark red rock. Arid sun. Long shadows. Find your spot.

Sloping hills. Clawing brambles. Bitter herbs.

It is an unbinding, a tearing, a siphoning. That is the power of your hand.

Let your mind be fleet and subtle as the night-soaring hawk.

The energies of the universe are eager to heed your call.

All that is dark is not Darkness.

White skies. Unyielding ground. Misted breath. Just one shot.

How will we know when we've found all of the secrets?

Yawning caves. Clinging damp. Hidden alcoves. Stay sharp.

Taste of water. Scrape of dirt. Swath of grass. Take aim.

How shall we measure the passage of time?

Dark plains. Starry skies. Clear air. Reclaim the range.

How do you make meaning from battle with chaos incarnate?

To the wondering eye, what is not a miracle?

Wound in the earth. Long vectors. Clean shots. Our dream, and yours.

If not here, could it not be elsewhere?

Long roads. Sloping hills. Ancient roots. Keep the watch.

In all of us, two natures dwell.

Be the shear. Unstitch a foe molecule by molecule.

A precise whisper is more powerful than an echoing scream.

Can anything stop you?