“Yours…not mine.” – Renegade Hunter Shin Malphur to Dredgen Yor
The story of this legendary exotic weapon is drawn from memory. Mostly mine but not all. There was a home we had, it wasn’t perfect or glamorous but it kept us safe out in the wilds. Palamon was its name. We heard stories, mad ramblings of a City that shone, covered in Light. Palamon did not gleam or shine, but it was a sanctuary, a home. Palamon held its place in the heart of a range that stretched across the horizon, unconquerable. Wooded mountains reached towards the heavens. Winters were harsh and existence was harder but the peaks of the mountains and tips of the trees hid us from danger. We sometimes held fantasies of striking out towards the Last City and moving on but those were just dreams. We had no laws except for a few basic tenets overseen by Magistrate Loken. He was a broken man who had seen too much loss, too much grief. He was frightened and it was that fear that caused his fingers to tighten on Palamon and so magistrate became dictator. Palamon and the Loken himself raised me as if I was their own as my parents were lost to me early in my life, taken by Dregs. Despite the loss that pocketed my existence, life was good, until two men entered my life. One was Light. The other, the greatest Darkness that had ever eclipsed Palamon.
The Light belonged to a man by the name of Jaren Ward, my third father and my closest friend. Even though I was just a boy I will never remember his shadow as he made his way through town. He said he was just passing through but I guess intent and action are two different things. While I remember everything about that day as clearly as if it was happening in front of me once again, there is one thing that shines brighter in my mind than all the rest and that was the cannon that held its place on Jaren’s hip. It was both a trophy and a warning. A snippet of his history and the battles both it and Jaren had survived. Jaren had a lightness to his step, a pureness that made me believe that anyone who had that cannon used on them, had earned that fate. As we waited for the official greeting of Magistrate Loken, I could not bear to be restrained by my father and ran to greet the Light filled stranger under the sleek racing helmet he wore. I stopped and stared, transfixed by the weapon at his hip. My mind dashed between so many heroic acts and deeds that I did not even register him lowering himself down to my level. The cannon was held out of me,a gift, almost a promise. I took the weapon from Jaren, one of the greatest Hunters to ever use the Travellers Light, not to use of course but to imagine, to feel its power and its intrigue. This was the very first time I held the Last Word but it definitely would not be the last.
One day, when I was still just a boy, Palamon turned to ash. I’d always assumed, with the bright eyes of impossibility that Jaren Ward would always be there to protect us. He was our friend, our Guardian. Jaren and our best hunters, had left three days prior tracking Fallen ever since the bandits had come calling and caused a stir. That was when the stranger arrived. He strode into town, just like Jaren had, slowly, purposeful. Unlike Jaren, this man was not full of Light. He was cold and distant, almost broken. I had always thought the monsters were far away, four armed and vicious. Monsters did not look like men I thought. My interest got the better of me and as the stranger towered over me, I felt lost, terrified under the weight of the shadow. Until he moved on, leaving me shaking and cold.
It was the fourth night of the seventh moon with us tracking heavy Fallen activity. Trail was not dead yet but it wasn’t hot either. Jaren had us hold by a ravine, where the wooded trees stopped the cold and the onrush of water muffled our whispered conversations. We had a small group, just six in number, escaping the solemn ground of where the ash of Palamon still remained. The area was not known Fallen territory but that assumption is dangerous in these times. Movement and noise was kept to a minimum with gestures and hand signals being our only solace towards each other. The presence of the dual Skiffs had spooked us, begging to give us a reason to turn back. Thats where our hope lay. Our future that didn’t involve death. But Jaren never wavered and we stood with him. We were close, according to Jaren, and he was confident of that fact. So was his Ghost, always present, hovering at his side, scanning and alert, searching for any sign of danger. It rarely spoke, but we knew it could. We had heard snippets of conversation between it and Jaren when the moon had risen to its zenith. I had noticed its gaze on me a few times before, its single eye gleaming as it studied me, I had dismissed it as nothing more than mild interest due to my closeness with Jaren. It never occurred to me, the arms length he held everyone else. Maybe I was special? We woke the next morning to a crack of gunfire. The familiar, comforting ring of the Last Word spoke in the gloomy night and was followed by a haunting echo, abrupt and cutting. Jaren had gone off on his own, to protect us he thought, but he left us instead. Went to face death on his own. There was nothing to be done. Somewhere in the distance, my friend and protector lay dead or dying. I refused to move, an hour, an eternity passed and left me as the only one remaining. Then a darting motion came out of the wood, a flurry of movement which revealed to be Jarens Ghost. It studied me for a moment as it often had and sent a beam of light over my shuddering body. Then for the first time it spoke to me.
At that pivotal moment, we stood as seconds stretched into minutes. Yor seemed different now. Like his lack of conscience had left him with a quick step and a light heart. He spoke to me, of time gone past and his urge for this meeting. He told me that the weapon I now held at my hip, The Last Word, was his gift to me. He had left it and it was his mistake that he had. As my gaze locked with his, I felt the heat in my face, felt it build in my chest, the singular fury of my Light grew. I remembered every one I lost, every one from Palamon, Jaren Ward, my truest friend. The last words he whispered rang out, “But here you are. This is truly an end…”. His tongue dripped between syllables and my heart settled on my rage and anger and a desire for this to be over. I stepped forward and with the step came the unbridled fury of my power, my Light. As my finger closed on the trigger, two shots engulfed in boundless rage and fire. Yor had fallen. While fire still played over my form, I went to his corpse, his toxic Thorn lying desolate on the ground. “Yours, not mine” I said as my cannon got to have its own loud, reverberating last word.
The Last Word is a relic of a time when fast firing Gunslingers served the law on the grounds of how fast they can pull the trigger and the Last Word does not disappoint. A rapid firing hand cannon, the Last Word packs quite a high impact. It has two signature perks that make it a worthy addition to any Guardians arsenal. Fan Fire allows it to be fired quickly and continuously which makes it the fastest firing hand cannon ever built and the fact that it does not pause in between shots allows your Guardian to get the most out of it in terms of damage. It is a polar opposite to its sister gun, First Curse which has a high impact and slow fire rate. Its second exotic perk, Last Word provides a bonus to stability and target acquisition when fired from the hip. This means that in order to get the best possible perks out of this gun, you have to trust in your skills and fire without aiming down sight. Otherwise you will lose the greater part of the stability and target acquisition as well as a fair bit of speed of which it is known for. This exotic is best utilised in a PVP scenario and and the fast fire rate as well as being able to consistently keep the exotic on target will allow you to melt through your opposition with ease. In PVE, the Last Word is formidable but the smaller magazine size and its particular exotic perks may cause you to want to use a different exotic weapon. It all comes down to personal preference.
This weapon has a beautiful design to it, with a gold patina along the top with the main frame of the hand cannon being a deep black that contrasts with the gold. Along the barrel and magazine of the weapon we see an intricate set of symbols that are embellished onto the exterior showcasing it as worthy of the exotic status.
How to Acquire it?
The Last Word can be gained from an exotic primary engram or purchasing it from Xur if you are lucky enough for him to have it in his inventory.