Dredgen Yor and Shin Malphur; Thorn and the Last Word: an in-depth summary of the events leading up to the showdown on Dwindler’s Ridge.

This is a story of conflict and rising up. A tale of good vs. evil, a clash of purpose and reason. A battle of Light of Darkness, of hopelessness and loss, of overcoming hardships and succumbing to fear.

This story is long and spread across the Grimoire.

Enjoy, Guardians.

  • Part I – The Legend of Rezyl Azzir

This story begins in the Grimoire card "Rezyl Azzir – Before These Walls". It details a man, a would-be Titan, a mountain of muscle and might and metal, wearing a collar of fur and teeth, intricate and ornate armor; trophies he has collected.

He was not originally called a Guardian, but Risen.

Risen by the Traveler before the city became The City. This was before the Light was studied, before the walls. Before any of that.

This was the time of Lords, but that's another tale, for another day.

Survivors came to the Traveler, praising it as one would a god. The people beneath it began to form into factions, like minded groups, each representing their own ideas and truths. Their collective truths combined granted a larger understanding of the world in itself, and every day, the factions questioned more.

But then, the Factions grew divided. Every idea was held as the only truth, rather than the collective as a whole. And each held their own Risen, who stood with them. The conflict grew as Risen decided they were not instruments of oppression, not tools to be used by their factions. From this, there was a war, a constant struggle, fueled by fear and greed and arrogance, until the Fallen arrived.

Weakened and on the brink, the Factions and their Risen fought together against the Fallen, and succeeded. From these wars came the walls. The city grew and became The City. The Factions expanded, spreading their influence throughout the city beneath the Traveler.

From these wars also came Rezyl Azzir; a leader, a champion, a legend. Guardians swelled the City ranks, survivors flocked to the oasis beneath the Traveler. The City thrived.

From everything, everyone, every victory, hope blossomed. Hope for the future. Hope for a better tomorrow.

But to Rezyl, Hope was a currency. Hope bought tomorrow. Hope bought the effort to live today, and the next day and the next.

Old stories began to haunt Rezyl. Stories of Luna, of witches and knights and a Darkness which consumed and suppressed hope. The stories were no longer told, for fear of what they might bring.

Hope signified a struggle, a cause to pursue. If there was not hope, there was no tomorrow. If the Darkness could devour hope, what chance could they stand?

So every day Rezyl would fight, and build, and protect. And every night, he thought about the untold stories, and what they might mean.


The legend continues with the Grimoire card "Rezyl Azzir – War Without End". This story starts with a tale entitled "Eksori's Ambush", and details a small skirmish between a fleet of Fallen from the House of Devils and Rezyl Azzir. It is nothing special; only showing the difference in thought and meaning of conflict between the Eliksni and the Guardian. Each alien viewed the battle as a meaningful violence, a clash of strength. The Captain sees Rezyl as an exquisite trophy, which would earn him much respect in his Fallen House. To Rezyl, the Captain is an afterthought. A fluid of movement, an action performed countless times before, and countless times after.

To Rezyl, it was nothing. Conflict was as common as a breath.

The next section is entitled "The Tescan Valley Encounter". It starts with Rezyl and a few allies seeing a Ketch, between two peaks, scavenging some sort of facility below. The Ketch is compared to a shark, constantly moving, giving credence to the rarity of what they were seeing.

Rezyl takes down a Skiff with his rocket launcher, causing the other Skiffs to retreat back into the mother ship. Rezyl tells his Ghost to hang back in the forest, and to prepare to revive him. The Ghost is shocked and confused, but ultimately agrees.

Rezyl assaults a Fallen group, killing a few, before the Kell sets his sights on him. Within seconds, Rezyl falls to the Kell. The Kell grabs Rezyl's body, and holds it high above his head. It is a victory, a morale booster. The Fallen cheer, and his Ghost prepares for revival. None see the small machine flying between them, too excited to notice. Rezyl awakes, and fires a shot into the Kell. The Kell staggers, and Rezyl falls to the ground. He calls upon the Light, the storm and the sky, and unleashes a maelstrom of inner Arc energy, a Fist of Havoc that obliterates the Kell and all the nearby Fallen.

This is a major victory, but Rezyl sees it as another conflict, just as meaningful, or meaningless, as the last, and the next. This was the state of things, war was as constant as the sky.

The final story is entitled "In Defense of North Channel". It talks of a settlement and it's people. The Fallen Rezyl and his group were tracking had reached North Channel first, and left it in ruins. Any survivor that climbed from the rubble would mark this day a victory, but Rezyl was tired of small wins, when it largely unaffected the larger, more grand conflict.

Rezyl leads the survivors to the City, and he inherently knows, whatever death they avoided today, would meet them eventually.


  • Part II – The Fall of Rezyl Azzir

"Rezyl Azzir: The Whisper and the Bone"

Rezyl Azzir, the great Titan from Earth, the Faction War champion. A Risen, then a Guardian. A hero of the Light.

He finds himself on Luna, the evil place that kept him up at night. He comes looking for stories he longed hope were lies and fantasies.

But they were not.

He stands in front of a door. Large, dark, gothic and ornately carved. He feels something deep down, something resembling fear. He knows he should not be here.

He steps forward anyways.

He hears a shrill, heavy scraping as the doors slide open. He readies his rifle, his Inferno. A floating figure appears from the abyss from beyond the door. She was a dark, ethereal woman, wearing tattered ceremonial armor of bone.

Rezyl and the woman, the demon, hold their ground, staring at each other, both unsure what to do. The moment is shattered by a loud, angry booming deep in the recesses behind the wicked woman. She recedes, as if called. Yet, the doors stood open, an invitation, a challenge.

He steps forward, before his Ghost interrupts. He says it is not a good idea. The Hero doesn't care. His only focus is on the darkness beyond the threshold. The Ghost tells him they should go back home, gather an army. Warn the City of this nightmare they've awoken.

Rezyl leaves his Ghost behind, and steps through the door.

Minutes pass. Hours, days. Time does not pass down there, in the Darkness. It washes away, devours the hope Rezyl has, clings to. It destroys the pursuit of tomorrow, the will to proceed.

Down here, there is no tomorrow.

His footsteps echo in the abyss, lonely beats in a void of nothing. At any time, the Darkness could swallow him, the foolish Hero who pursued the stories so frightening, they were no longer told.

The witch is suddenly upon him. Rezyl opens fire, firing bursts into the night. He fires at the witch, but it's impossible to track her in this unending void.

She engulfs him in a toxic cloud, thick enough to hold him back, restrict his movement. She laughs, cutting into his mind and soul like a tempered blade. Then she speaks. But the words are more like pain, torture. He flinches under the agony of her tongue, her torturous language.

She approaches him, and whispers into his bleeding ears.

"I am the end of 'morrows. Xyor, the Blessed. Xyor, the Betrothed. I am of the coming storm. These are not my words, but prophesy. Your Light will one day shatter and die. For now it simply offends… And you, dear, sweet, fragile thing, shall be made to suffer for your transgressions upon this holy ground."

As the witch fell silent, her hateful voice is replaced by a growing chorus of hungry, manic chittering and the rising thunder of an approaching flood.

Rezyl had come looking for the terrors that hide just beyond the light.

He found them.

Or, maybe…

…they found him.


"The Triumphant Fall"

Rezyl is fighting off Thrall. Unending, wave after wave. An incessant force, constant and unending.

His final magazine falls empty from his rifle. Undeterred, Rezyl takes his weapon and swings it into the crowd. A new wave of chittering death was upon him – fragile but aggressive, overwhelming in their number and oppressive in their rage. Slowly, the pile before him grew. The nightmares were ended, only to be replaced instantly.

But there was a peace over him. A calming presence. This was conflict, a natural order. Unending and constant; Rezyl knew this before. Battle was never a place to panic. Rezyl was perfectly at ease.

He swings the butt end of his Inferno into a skull. The rifle flies with the body, stuck in the chalky bone. His rifle had been with him through everything, but his Rose would see him through.

Every shot fired lit the cavern with a red glare. The demon woman laughed at the other end, dancing in the air. She was watching…


She unleashed a soul-crippling screech. The waves ended.

The witch laughed, but was quieted by a thunderous booming.



A mighty being appeared, dwarfing the Titan. The beast wielded a blade. A blade as long as a man, no… longer. The being held it weightlessly, with grace.

To Rezyl, it looked knightly. Majestic. Perhaps it had been heroic once. Perhaps it is now; but for a truer, darker, more sinister purpose.

The thought intrigued him.

The monster lunged forward, and Rezyl did as well.

Two days passed, and Rezyl sat on the surface of Luna. His Ghost pressed him for details, enthralled by his fight, but also deeply concerned. It contacted the City's Vanguard, telling them of the nightmarish monstrosities beneath the surface.

As they watched another Earth-rise from the lonely quiet of the lunar surface and planned their long journey home, Rezyl pulled fragmented bone from the pouch that hung on his left hip: a reminder of the evil that lurked beyond the Light, and the last remnants of the wicked woman’s betrothed.

And while he recounted once more the events of his time in the shadows he took his Rose from its holster and began grafting the bone to its steel frame — just another trophy, from another battle won.

It was only later, and far too late, that the first whispers came and the bones revealed their true, jagged purpose.


"The Rose"

He stands a hero, a champion of the Light. The people look to him for salvation, for he is a beacon of truth, of hope. And within that truth, that hope, there was great promise. If one man could stand against the night, then so too could anyone – everyone.

In his strong hand the man held a Rose. And his aura burned bright.

When he journeyed, the people remembered him. In his wake, hope and peace blossomed.

But he carried an evil burden, a sinister secret. His thoughts were corrupted. Darkness plagued him. A sadness crept upon him, and his shadows whispered their truths. Slowly the shadows' whisper became a voice, a dark call, offering glories enough to make even the brightest Light wander. He knew he was fading, yet he still yearned.

On his last day he sat and watched the sun fall. His final thoughts, pure of mind, if not body, held to a fleeting hope – though they would suffer for the man he would become, the people would remember him as he had been.

And so the noble man hid himself beneath a darkness no flesh should touch, and gave up his mortal self to claim a new birthright. Whether this was choice, or destiny, is a truth known only to fate.

In that cool evening air, as dusk was devoured by night, the noble man ceased to exist. In his place another stood.

Same meat. Same bone. But so very different.

The first and only of his family. The sole forebearer and last descendant of the name Yor.

In his first moments as a new being, he looked down at his Rose and realized for the first time that it held no petals: only the jagged purpose of angry thorns.


  • Part III – Shin Malphur, and a town they call Palamon

The town was Palamon. It no longer exists, apart from a stretch of rubble and waste. Only one survivor carries the memory of Palamon: Shin Malphur. He attempts to retell his story, a tale of sadness, desperation, horror, and overcoming. Of two forces converging upon a plane. Of Light against Darkness, a clash of purpose and reason.

This is where the story truly begins.

In the Grimoire card "Ghost Fragment: The Last Word", Shin Malphur begins with a description of his hometown of Palamon. He describes it as a small settlement, far away in the woods. He remembers stories of a city, The City. A paradise beneath the Traveler. Some spoke of reaching out and finding it, but it never came to fruition.

People came, and people left. There wasn't a government, but there were rules, agreed upon by all. These rules were eventually overseen by a magistrate, a man named Loken.

He remembers his parents, but not very well. They were taken by the Fallen when he was young. Shin was left to be raised by an adopted family,one he would come to call his own.

Shin notes Loken must have lost something, as they all had. Some had nothing to begin with, and some had lost it all. Their family, themselves, hope.

But despite all this, Shin says life was good. He says his judgement may be skewed, that life wasn't easy, but it was all he had.

At least, until Jaren Ward arrived.


"Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 2"

He came to Palamon from the South. No one had ever seen someone like him. He said he was passing through, and it was true. But sometimes life got in the way, and here, it definitely did.

Jaren Ward is described as dangerous, but with a certain light. He wasn't better, or superior, but more. He had a sense about him, that his anger had to be earned, not carelessly given.

The townspeople gathered as Ward approached Palamon. The crowd was silent, with Shin stating he wasn't sure if it was out of respect, or fear.

He looked like a hero from a story, watching from behind his helmet.

They waited for Magistrate Loken to greet him, but curiosity bested young Shin. He ran up to the stranger and stared up at him. Jaren Ward focused his attention down at the child. The young gaze flitted to the weapon at the stranger's hip.

Shin was transfixed, as he imagined the story held within the weapon. The places it had been, the things it had seen. The things it had endured, the horrors it had witnessed.

Ward kneeled, and held the firearm out to Shin, as if it was a gift. One he would graciously accept. He took it, and held it. Not to use. But to observe. To imagine. To feel its weight and know its truth.

This was the first time he held it, but unfortunately, not his last.


"Ghost Fragment: The Dark Age 2"

The card begins with a confrontation between Jaren Ward and Magistrate Loken. A battle between a town's Guardian and their leader.

There were nine guns trained on Jaren, with Loken just behind them. Jaren stood silently, with his Ghost behind his shoulder.

Loken steps forward to the crowd, proclaiming to Jaren,

"You question me? This is not your home!"

Shin had watched Jaren for months. Picked up his mannerisms, his effortless gestures mapped by the young boy. Shin hoped to learn something from him, wished to be like him. But he realized then, all he needed to know about Jaren came from the moment he first saw the Hunter enter the town. Jaren was something more than the rest of them. Not superior, not better. Just… more.

Jaren stood calmly in the face of Loken's toxic words, with his hand resting on his pistol.

"This is our town! My town!" the Magistrate shouted to him, to the crowd, to the skies above.

"No," said Jaren, quietly. "Not anymore."

"Those gonna be your last words, boy?" the man asked, laughter in his voice.

"Yours," said the Guardian. "Not mine."

A single shot was fired.

Not from the guns aimed at the Hunter, but the one aimed at the tyrant of Palamon.

Loken hit the ground, a dark hole in his head, eyes staring up into eternity.

Jaren stared down the nine guns trained on him. One by one, they lowered their aim. And the rest of Shin's life began – where, in a few short years, so many others would be ended.


"Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 3" + "Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 4"

This story is told at first in "Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 4", but ends in "Ghost Fragment: The Last Word 3." I'll mark the conversion. In this passage, I will refer to each passage at "4" and "3", respectively.

"4" starts off by describing the new state of Palamon. Ash. Young Shin thought Jaren Ward would protect Palamon, protect him. He was wrong.

Three days prior, Jaren and Palamon's best hunters left, on the trail of the Fallen. A stranger arrived the fourth day.

He was different than Palamon's first stranger. Darker. Colder, more distant. Broken. But he was polite. He took their courtesy, their hospitality.

But Shin wasn't afraid. He had no reason to be. He didn't know then monsters took human form. The only monsters he knew were four-armed, pirates of another world.

The silhouette began to form, and the shadows grew. The stranger brought with him a darkness. When he departed, all he left was the ruins of Palamon, and a shadow. One Shin Malphur hunted, until he found it.

"3" starts with Jaren Ward, Shin Malphur, and the other 6 survivors of Palamon, tracking Fallen through the woods. Shin notes that the six with them was three less compared to two months ago, but more than the five they had when they originally left Palamon.

Jaren led the group through the woods, tracking Fallen Skiffs. They spooked the group, but they weren't scary. Shin thinks the group wanted a reason to turn back. Yet Jaren pushed on, never wavering. It was his drive, his conviction that kept them going.

The Guardian seemed confident they were close, to whatever it was they were tracking. No one else was positive, not even enthusiasm lingered among them.

The Ghost never spoke to anyone. It seemed wary, reclusive, guarded. They knew it could speak, and yet it didn't. Only to Jaren, and only when necessary and alone. Occasionally, Shin notes, the Ghost's eye would waver on him. Shin assumes it's because of his bond to Jaren, a father and son paternity. He says he should've known then, especially after all he'd been through, but he didn't.

Jaren stopped the group in a ravine, near a cliff's edge. They settled down to sleep and prepare for the next day.

The night was soon shattered by gunfire. Far-off, yet near enough to pump blood. At first, it was the ring of Jaren's cannon, but after a few shots, there was a single, infernal sound. Then, it stopped.

The group held their spot, unable to believe what they had heard.

Jaren Ward, their Guardian, was lost.

The echoes faded, and yet the group stayed. But, as the midday crept closer and the sun began to rise, duty and desire were wedged apart by the loss of conviction, and Shin soon found himself alone.

It was then that Jaren Ward's ghost appeared, and began to speak…

3: http://db.destinytracker.com/grimoire/inventory/primary-weapons/ghost-fragment-the-last-word-3

4: http://db.destinytracker.com/grimoire/inventory/primary-weapons/ghost-fragment-the-last-word-4

  • Part IV – The Path of Dredgen Yor

Perhaps the most hated Guardian to ever be risen by the Traveler, the trail Dredgen Yor blazes is full of Darkness and corruption.

The path of Dredgen Yor reaches outside of the Grimoire, unlike Shin Malphur and Rezyl Azzir. We know of events that are outside the following Grimoire cards, but told within the description of a couple class items. The first item is a rare Hunter cloak, aptly named, "The Cloak of Dredgen Yor."

"Before he murdered Pahanin, Dredgen Yor ruled the Crucible, the notorious Thorn at his side."

The second is a legendary Titan mark, "The Mark of Contention" belonging to Titan named Thalor.

"The mighty Thalor was invincible in the Crucible – until Dredgen Yor, and his Thorn."

This is the only lore outside the Grimoire we have of Dredgen Yor. Now, onto the Grimoire…

"A Farewell to Light"

A Guardian and his ghost sit atop a lonely ridge in the Martian desert, above the lost city of Freehold. The night sky is sprinkled with stars, with Light. But flooded with Darkness between. Dredgen Yor sits with his Ghost, beneath a long dead tree. Deimos shines out in the distance.

"You weren't always this man," says the Ghost.


"You don't have to remain this man, then."

"No, I am other."

"You can be better!" urges the Ghost.

Yor looks down at himself. "This is better."

Ghost looks away. "That matter is subjective."

Yor turns, a fire in his eye. "Then what? Lesser?"

Ghost looks him in the eye. "Some would say."

"But what would you say?"

Ghost turns. Yor looks away, back at the lost city. He reflects that the Darkness, how it came here all those years ago, was responsible for all that was lost.

The minutes pass.

Yor turns back. "After all we've seen, and now, here with me, you have no words?"

"No," Ghost whispers. "I have words. But you will not like them."

"There's much I do not like."

"More now than before, it seems."

He laughs.

Ghost focuses it's single eye on him, and gives a stern look. "Your choices aren't a laughing matter. Your path leads to Darkness."

Yor returns the stare. "Only in the journey, Ghost."

"What brought you here was nobility.."

Dredgen Yor unholsters his Thorn, and runs his hands down the barrel. "And my prize."

Ghost turns, unable to look at such darkness. "That is not a prize."

"A curse then?"

"I'd say so."

"And I would disagree."

"But you are no longer yourself."

"But that's it. I am myself. It was who I was that is gone."

"Who you were held all the value."

He puts away his Thorn and stands up. "Who I was held the Light. It's gone now, and so are they. It was nothing but a crutch."

"But one that held you up!" Ghost cries, unable to bear what its Guardian in implying.

"Only just. And nothing more."

"Nothing more! It made you a hero, a legend among your people. Isn't that enough?"

"No. People still die. Corruption still spreads. What point is there in being the hero if there's no one worth saving?"

"There are people worth saving, worth protecting. You dedicated yourself to their survival!"

"And what did it gain me?"

"Honor! Nobility! Hope!"

"Hope… There is no hope. There is only peace, now."

"Peace? With innocent blood on your hands?"

"That's a matter of perspective."

"That's not you talking. That's the Darkness."

"I am the Darkness. I'm a shadow. Call me by my name, Ghost."

"No. You are not that terrible name. You are Rezyl Azzir, Guardian of the Last City."

"That is not who I am. No longer. I am Dredgen Yor, a bringer of peace."

"There is no peace, Rezyl. Not in you, and not from you. We can cleanse you of this Darkness, return you to the Light. Please, come with me."

"No, Rezyl is dead. Only Dredgen Yor remains."

"I will not speak that name. All the bone, and blood, and ash at your feet. That is all that remains. This isn't an inherent evil. This is corruption."

"Of what? The shadows?"

"The Darkness."

Yor looked back over the city. "Maybe so…"

"There is no maybe here."

"Yet you think you can save me?"

"I rekindled the Light inside you, all those years ago. It is my task to ensure it survives."

"It doesn't matter. This is where we part ways."

"I will not leave you."

"No, I am leaving you."

"Without me, your journey will be impossible of any one Guardian."

"That's the point. I was there when we built the City, and when we protected it time and time again. I fought alongside my Risen brothers and sisters. But now, I think I am capable of so much more…"

"Without me, you'll die."

"Consider this my last good deed. I am releasing you of the burden of my deeds, both done and yet to come."

"I will not abandon you."

"You will. Or I will carve the Light from your shell and leave the carcass of my first and last friend in the dirt of this dull, red world for no one to find."

"Then I’ve failed you, completely."

"Not me. Maybe the man I was."

"He is truly dead."

"I believe so."

"Belief is not fact."

"Semantics I no longer have the patience for… When you speak of me, use my proper name. Tell them of the man that stands before you, not the ghost of the hero I once was."

"You'll always be Rezyl to me."

"If you cannot let that man go, you will forever taint his legacy. All the good I have ever done will be washed away in the fire of who I have become."

"If you care, there is still some promise within you."

"If I am being honest, I care only to give hope to the frightened, huddled masses so that when I come upon them they will have more to lose. Their pain will be greater. Their screams more pure."

"You.. this is deeper than corruption…"

"Nothing dies like hope. I cherish it."

"You’re a monster."

"Finally, you see the truth."

"Rezyl is truly dead." Ghost turns, unable to face him.

"So I’ve said. Long live Dredgen Yor."

"This is farewell, but you can only run from your sins so far. In the end, you will die alone."

"Maybe so. But I gotta tell ya… I tend to like my odds."

"Your tainted Rose will not always save you."

"Old friend… It already has."

Yor turned into the shadows, and his Ghost wandered off, back to the Light.


"The Bloom"

The card starts with a few bandits and Yor in a bar.

The leader of the group gets up and sits next to Yor at the countertop.

"Can I see what you got there?"


"Your cannon, can I see it?"

"Do I know you?" he responds. The bandit figures he doesn't. Yet he persists, trying to view the hand cannon in the Guardian's hand.

The bandit comments, he has never seen a weapon like it.

"No. You haven't"

"It looks dangerous."

"Maybe, that's the point," he points out.

"Where'd you find it?" he asks.


Another man speaks up.

"He asked you a question."


The Guardian replies with, "I didn't find it; I made it."

"Helluva touch you got then. You a 'smith?"

"Do I look like a 'smith?" he says with a smirk.

"Looks can be deceiving," the leader says.

He laughs, "Yes, you've got that right."

The leader is suspicious. "Do we have a problem?"

"Doesn't need to be."

"Glad we got that settled," says the leader, a little annoyed. "Now, about that piece…"

"Been to Luna?" the Guardian says, suddenly.

"Excuse me?" asks a confused leader.

"The Moon, you been?"

"No, no one's been." he said.

"That a truth?"

"A fact."

"It's funny you'd make that distinction," he replies.

"Truth is you must think you're some kinda something special. With that attitude. The way you're just dismissin' us like you we're nothing…like we ain't even here," says the man, itching for a fight. "Fact is…You ain't near as rock solid as you figure. Fact is, special's only special 'til it's not."

Yor turns. "The bones say otherwise."

"Speak sense, boy," says the bandit with scorn.

"You say 'nobody.' Bones say otherwise."

"What bones?" says the bandit, a bit nervously. Something is wrong, off with this Guardian, he realizes.

"Ever have a nightmare?" Dredgen Yor says, standing up. "Can't help but, in a world like this."

"No, I don't have nightmares. I give 'em," responds the bandit. The whiskey is stronger than his growing fear, and his pride speaks.

Dredgen Yor laughs. A dark, deep jibe. "You are a goddamn cliché. The picture perfect bandit. Hearing your voice – the things you're saying, the shade of the hard man you pretend to be…"

"I ain't no shade," the bandit whispers.

Three shots, three dead. The bandit gets up and backs away, heading for the door.

Dredgen Yor points to a chair.

"Sit down. Your loud mouth just got your three friends killed."

The bandit complies, fully aware of the fear that was slowly building inside.

"This is what happens when you bore me. And right now," says Yor, loading another cartridge into his cursed cannon, "I am so, very bored."

"You, you're supposed to be a Guardian! One of the good ones!" the bandit whimpers.

"Supposed to be? Maybe I am.. Maybe this is what good looks like. Who can tell anymore?"

He closes his eyes and starts to sob.

"That won't stop what comes next. Open your eyes. You wanted to see my prize. Look at it."

Yor stands in front of him, and slowly turns the cannon in his hand, admiring the weapon.

"Look at the bone. Jagged, like thorns. Not many get such a nice view.

"Ever had a nightmare? Ever wake up and realize the terror is there, and so, very real? I've seen nightmares. Things you couldn't imagine. I thought once, that darkness was stoppable. Hope was valuable and the Light was strong. But once you walk into the dark, it's so very hard to step out into the Light.

"Maybe I just wasn't strong enough. But I feel strong now. I found the darkness.

"Or, maybe… it found me…

"Either way, I'm here now. And I'm hungry. It, is hungry. There is no Light in you beyond the spark of your own, miserable life.

"But… a spark is something.

"Open your eyes."

A single shot echoes throughout the night.


  • The End – A Clash of Fates

The end had come. The Light pursued the Darkness, and there they met, atop Dwindler's Ridge. A moment forever marked in history. Shin Malphur, a full grown Guardian now, wielding his deceased father's Ghost as his own, and his cannon as well. Dredgen Yor, long lost to the Darkness he was so very afraid of once. Different purposes, different motivations. Yet not so different. One fell to their deepest, darkest fears; the other, rose above.

The sun was high. Each stood their ground atop the ridge.

Their eyes locked, and he spoke.

"Been awhile."

Shin gave no reply.

"The gunslinger’s sword… his cannon. That was a gift."

The silence held as Shin's thumb caressed the perfectly worn hammer at his hip.

“An offering from me… to you. Nothing left to say?"

Dredgen Yor left the words hanging in the air.

"“I’ve been waiting for you. For this day.”

His attempt at conversation felt mundane when judged against all that had come before.

“Many times I thought you’d faltered. Given up…”

All he had lost, all who’d suffered, flashed rapid through his mind, intercut with a dark silhouette walking toward a frightened, weak, coward of a boy.

The fire burned in him.

“But here you are," finished Dredgen Yor, the cursed Guardian. "This is truly an end…”

As the words left his mouth, Shin swung his cannon upward. No, not his cannon. Jaren's cannon. Reflex and purpose merged with anger, clarity and an overwhelming need for just that… an end.

Two shots. Two golden bullets engulfed in an angry glow.

Dredgen Yor fell. He never once raised his cursed cannon, his beloved Thorn. The instrument of his creation, the Dark piercer of his Light and will. The ender of countless lives. It was done. None more would it claim.

Shin Malphur strode across the field, to the corpse of the fallen Guardian.

A sadness came over him. He thought back to his earliest days. Of Palamon. Of Jaren. This was finally the end.

Leveling the cannon at the dead man’s helm, Shin paid one final tribute to his mentor, his savior, his father and his friend…

“Yours… Not mine.”

…and he closed his grip, allowing Jaren’s cannon, now his own, to finally have, the Last Word.


I'm so very excited to share this with you all! This is my first time doing a post like this. Love it? Hate it? Did I miss something? Please let me know! I am ready, willing, and able to edit this post, whether it be grammar, lore I've missed, or any other problems you might have with this post. I await your responses!

I originally posted this week-long project over on r/DestinyLore. If you would like to see the original, you can find it here: https://www.reddit.com/r/DestinyLore/comments/6602pe/dredgen_yor_and_shin_malphur_thorn_and_the_last/

This post is currently being made into a video by Destiny Guides (https://www.youtube.com/c/evadeentertainment) . If you'd like to see it, you can find it here when it is released.

Next week's story will be about a Queen, a Kell, and a Taken King. You can find it over on r/DestinyLore first, every day, starting Monday, 5pm CST, updated daily until completion at 5pm CST.

Original post

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.