Legendary / Hunter / Class Item / Hunter Cloak

Your reputation precedes you, like a disregarded warning.

Source: Guardian Games 2022

Related Collectible


Medal Mantle

Your reputation precedes you, like a disregarded warning.

Prak'kesh was relieving himself against the base of the Tower when his bodyguard, Tulnik, gave a sharp whistle.

The bookie hurriedly arranged himself and whirled around to find a trio of Hunters walking through the courtyard. Tulnik kept his eyes on the fireteam while whispering from the side of his mouth, "You're still unzipped."

Prak'kesh scoffed. "Worry about them, not my—Alphanis-2! Good to see you!" the bookie suddenly shouted in greeting as one of the Hunters approached. "Come to put a few more engrams on tonight's matches?"

The fireteam leader rested his hand coolly on his sidearm. His compatriots lollygagged in the courtyard, juggling knives back and forth.

"Actually, I've come to call off our bets," Alphanis-2 said casually.

Prak'kesh furrowed his brow. "Why's that? Not like you to miss opening night of the Games."

The Hunter shrugged. "We got better odds elsewhere."

Tulnik's eyebrows shot up. Prak'kesh's blinked slowly, as if he'd been slapped.

In the courtyard, the two Hunters began to bicker. They flung their knives back and forth with increasing ferocity.

Prak'kesh recovered and continued nonchalantly, "Yeah, sure thing Alphie." He tapped the datapad on his arm. "There. All your bets are off."

The Hunter eased his hand off his sidearm. "Thanks, 'Kesh." Behind him, one of his teammates yowled as a knife pierced his thigh.

Alphanis-2 rolled his eyes. "What the hell are you idiots doing?" he shouted over his shoulder.

"He stabbed me!" the injured Hunter hollered.

"Not my fault you can't catch," his juggling partner smugly replied.

The wounded Guardian ripped the knife dramatically from his thigh and held it aloft. "Shatterdiiiiive!" he screamed as he launched himself at his assailant. The pair fell to the ground, wrestling over the bloody knife.

Alphanis-2 dove into the fray, trying to break it up. Their Ghosts materialized above them, shouting in tiny voices.

Tulnik shook his head in disbelief as the trio rolled around on the ground, spamming one another with melee attacks. Prak'kesh leaned over and muttered, "Let's find out who's biting our business. We may need to send a message."

Tulnik nodded slowly. "I'm on it, boss."

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