Headcannons - Arknights: Endfield Database

A contracted project developed by Portable Æthertech Labs. Cræft-adepts boldly furnished this weapon lined with relicolith, upon which special patterns have been engraved.

The Sankta navigated through the battlefield and stopped by a severely injured UWST crew mate. She stooped over and made a cursory check of the wounds. The crew mate was unlikely to survive until the arrival of a qualified medic.

“May you finally find eternal rest. Aeternam habeas requiem.”

The Sankta held his hands and prayed that the poor soul may find peace.
How many like him had she found? Thirty? Or three hundred? The Sankta tried to remember as she held the hands that were already growing cold. She felt the rocks and dirt move behind her and drew her handcannon at once — An Aggelos, with a flickering halo above its head.
The Sankta slowly approached the paralyzed Aggelos. It was no longer a threat. Half of its body was already pulverized by the artillery of the Worker’s Guard.

She had a question that she knew could not be explained by the things she saw in this place. Ever since the Cabal of Tranquility activated its Nomadic Monastery upon Talos-II, and ever since the Sankta witnessed the first Aggelos, they — we were destined to seek the answers on our own, for none could ever respond to that question.

“By the graces of the Law, lead me to the journey home…”

Every Sankta of the Cabal knew how to sing this anthem. They sang the song as they bathed in the gazes of the saints and crossed the Cosmic Gate. They sang the same song when they traversed the ruins scattered across the world of Talos-II.
She still remembered the story that Abbess Vronta said during morning prayer During ancient times that predate the oldest annals, the Teekaz who sought the Lord’s protection became the Sankta. And during the time when the Lord left the Temple, the First Saint revealed her Teekaz form to the Sankta. But this story only filled her with confusion.
If the halo was the Lord’s exclusive gift to the Sankta and only the Sankta, then what about the hosts of lifeless yet animate constructs called the Aggeloi of Talos-II? Where did their halos come from?

Or rather, who was the one that made you?

Sankta gripped her gun tightly. No one could answer her question. The only thing that felt real was the weapon in her hand.
Soon, the final Ankhor disappeared from the horizon. The steam whistle of victory echoed throughout the battle lines. Once again the UWST pioneers pushed deeper into the frontier. This was the moment when the Civilization Band finds another secure footing in the desolate lands.
While those around her cheered, the Sankta placed both her hands on the head of the “dying” Aggelos. She thought she had felt something pulse within the supposedly unfeeling abomination … but the feeling quickly gave way to empty silence.
The Lord may have blessed the Sankta with their halos, but this blessing may have been granted to others. She kept thinking about what this might mean until faith once again filled her heart. It was at this moment, and at this very place, that the Sankta from the Cabal must perform another mass for the departed.

“No matter where you are from, may you finally find eternal rest. Aeternam habeas requiem.”

The rocks cracked and disintegrated as dust leaked out through the gaps between the Sankta’s fingers. The flickering halo finally dissipated into the air.

One of the most popular products from Mieszko Industries from their bold Fine Artists Collab series. These firearms feature great style to match its wildly violent performance. Its popularity is proven by the premium it commands in secondary markets.

A formal challenge to all modern “avant garde” artists of Talos-II

To those who call themselves the great masters of the “avant garde”
How are you doing? I’m specifically talking to those who spraypaint shapes on the walls of ruins, the howlers of underground dive bars in La Fantoma, and anyone who fantasized about having a hand in creating “unprecedented” works of art.
I gotta tell you a brutal truth. At least 90% of your so-called “avant garde” art are actually dug out from the ancient heaps known as Terran history.
La Fantoma got a new rapper brand? After viewing ten live recordings from the most classic Obsidian Festivals at Siesta, these so-called neo-rappers got NOTHING on the giant known to us as “Emperor”! They made ZERO innovations on the beats, rhyme, and rhythm. [LINK NO LONGER VALID]
Hundred-Strong Graffiti of the Asphalt Roundabout? From what I unearthed, these giant graffiti were past-tense in the Ursus factories of Terra. The Infected crew were already creating mega-graffiti at their barracks and production floors. [ATTACHMENT NOT FOUND]
Neo-Youth Film Festival of New Wrankwood? Hah. That’s an even bigger joke. The Talosian free city can’t even come up with their own name and just took something from the Terran city of Wrankwood.
So where the hell can we find true avant garde art of Talos-II?
If you want novelty and innovation, I’ll tell you what it means to be truly avant garde.
I’ve unearthed a video about the Endfield Protocol-Originium Technology (Protorig Tech). [Author has set the video to pay per view]
Many might be confused about the Protorig Tech I mentioned. But you know that art cannot be fully detached from industrial tech. Derivative works of aesthetics based on Terran technology will end up like those sorry examples I listed above. We will never free ourselves from the label of Terran culture!
But Protorig Tech is the most “avant garde” and “coolest” innovation that happens to be Talos-exclusive, isn’t it? It completely shattered our understanding of spatial dimensions, but why haven’t I seen any artist using them as a fount for artistic creation?
Avant garde isn’t about going through your trash or pasting new labels on old antiques.
So if you’re fumbling around with stuff that your grandparents had fun with, STAAHHHP calling yourself “avant garde”.

DISCLAIMER Views expressed in this article are personal and do not reflect our official stance. Should you experience discomfort while reading this article, please close this article and stop reading.

Author Artzy Tyrannical
Date posted Year 151, ██/██

One of the standard-issue operator weapons manufactured by Endfield Industries. This weapon is designed by Endfield Arsenal Engineer Peco. Mastery of etched ammo and firearms is no longer a skill exclusive to the Sankta.

I’ve asked Operator Ember and she agreed to take part in the Peco 5 performance trials. Ember might be a Sankta, but I’d never seen her fight with guns before. In fact, I thought she would turn me down outright. Guess I got lucky.

Ember also told me how the Order of Steel Oath operate their own firearms manufactories in the north. She also said that Peco 5 was “comparable” to the standard issues produced by Fort Forgefane. I might be overthinking things, but I truly wished she would set aside her diplomatic niceties of being an Endfield partner. I would feel safer if she gave us an honest review or even outright criticisms.

A mid-tier product of Mieszko Industries. This pistol is a perfect combination of vintage Lateran designs with modern industrial construction. A blue metallic coating gave the finishing touches for this unique work of art.

Regarding the Feasibility of Using Aggeloi as Cost-Effective Tools

I have fully reflected upon my last letter where I proposed to treat the Aggeloi as “potential clients”, to which you correctly criticized as an act of misguided error on my part. However, my core philosophy has remained the same. We should not treat the Aggeloi purely as an enemy, and our studies on their other potential roles and/or uses should continue.
Firstly, there is no evidence suggesting that all Aggeloi are under the control of Ankhors or the great nemesis in the north. A significant number of Aggeloi may have exhibited destructive behaviors, but their actions were not governed by any logic and we failed to discern any higher objectives thereof. Thus, the Aggeloid modus operandi can be safely considered as part of their natural instincts. And our own natural instinct is to take inspirations from various creatures (and I know Aggeloi aren’t beasts!) and invent things that benefit human civilization.
Much has been achieved throughout the last century, the same century during which we strove to build a strong foundation upon Talos-II. However, we hardly made any progress in our understanding of the Aggeloi. The only thing we elicited was displeasure from the Sankta who felt extremely offended by how we decided to name these creatures. Our lack of knowledge about the Aggeloi is a travesty. I beg you to acknowledge the importance of my pursuit and offer a grant large enough to continue my research.
That being said, my team (which comprises my son) successfully captured a small Aggelos specimen in the wildlands. It was slightly smaller than an Originium Slug and resembled a clawbeast pup. Perhaps you think I would attempt to domesticate it, but that was not my intent. If that were possible, someone would have done it during the last hundred years. My objective was to identify parts of the creature that could be of use to us.
Instead of physical or mechanical connections, the academic consensus believes that there exists some form of an energy or magnetic field between the Aggeloid tagmata and the “joints” of their 4 (and sometimes 8) segmented appendages. Field researchers had already provided witness reports of the Aggeloi “activating” these fields.
Perhaps the working principles of this Aggeloid articular spatial field can be used in actual applications. Attaching Aggeloid components to 2 articulating parts of a robotic servo arm may provide the machinery with a ready and endless source of power.
With that in mind, I came up with an ingenious invention at my own residence — Aggeloid Auto-Nutcracker! I fashioned this particular device by attaching small, excised parts of an Aggelos onto a makeshift ram and base made from cast metal. Placing a walnut on the base and “contracting” the Aggeloid articular spatial field generated sufficient force to crush the walnut.
I believe similar setups can be applied to other applications, so long as we find Aggeloid components of the right size and shape.
Attached are detailed blueprints and instructions of the Aggeloid Auto-Nutcracker. I certainly hope to hear from you soon.

A standard-issue firearm made by Fort Forgefane to arm the common soldiery. This weapon was extremely popular due to its simplified firing mechanism and incredible stopping power.

I think I need to retire.
There is nothing to be had on this world.
Did we make any great findings after 10 years and nearly 30 major excavation attempts? No. We found only engines of war that the Ursine were forced to abandon in the Great Rift Valley and the ruins of automated pastures given up to the hosts of Aggeloi and the never-ending Blight.
These discoveries were little more than rotting crates of our mundane past.
The true history of Talos-II would be the ruins left behind by our ancestors — And I unearthed 3 of these sites. All were empty. We found no bodies, no sources of power, and no machineries. There was nothing. Nothing but shards of metal. They did give off a light that I could peer into. I saw fuzzy images of our ancestors who lived eons ago. I saw them smile. The smiles looked genuine. Our ancestors looked happy.
None of our discoveries revealed what happened before us. In fact, our very own past remains shrouded. Talos-II continues to hide behind the obscuring veil. A Songseeker of the Hannabit Circuit told me their very first Aldertone caught a glimpse of the world’s shadowy past in the frozen icefields. This tiny glimpse scarred her with a monumental terror greater than Talos itself.
I told this to an Oathkeeper friend of mine. She replied with her own tale. Whenever she stood atop the Order fortress walls and gazed into the thick dark clouds that smothered the northern skies, she could feel the planet’s shadow lurking behind it. This shadow would briefly retreat whenever she stepped onto the battlefield.
“Be strong, and do not think too much about it.”
Those were her words when she gave me her handcannons. Fine. I’m putting off the retirement. I’m heading out there again.

RAYTHEAN Industries developed this high energy pistol for frontiers use. Decent reliability in adverse environments makes this a standard-issue weapon amongst wildland explorers.

“I guess we’re both trapped here. You and me. Now, we got a RAYTHEAN floor worker of their brand new production line and a stoic and well-grizzled UWST … ughh … What exactly is your job, bro?”
“Weapons. I install Originium primer safety mechanism on our guns.”
“Grreeeat. That means we got an expert weaponsmith. Too bad the Blight blocked the roads and got us both trapped here. I’m gonna tell every Raytheanite about this once we get our sorry butts out of here… By the way, you’re really good with bandages. I would never be able to fix my fractured finger if I were here alone.”
“You should have picked up some first-aid knowledge. This is the wildlands, mate.”
“It’s my first time working out here. Frontier-fresh, you know. Heh. Never expected them to assign me to a field job but I guess they never got enough Raytheanites to work out here. We drew lots, and yeah, got myself the short end of the stick and ended up with the convoy escort job. Hey, I might not look like it, but I stashed away six months’ worth of pay before leaving home. Bought myself three years’ worth of general insurance and emergency first-aid coverage plans for the Band Periphery with a wad of cash this thick! LOOK! THIS THICK! And KABAM! Actual accident happens and none of them works! Wasted all my cold hard cash on this blightery… Hey. Why do you look so lost and confused?”
“Sorry… I … just remembered a few things. I haven’t seen printed creds for a while.”
“Oooh! That’s right! I just remembered! The U-double-U don’t use no cold hards. They pay you in … what? Weekly ration tickets? Is that true?”
“We actually do get paychecks. In T-creds. But our sites tend to be in … less populated regions of the frontier so we got nowhere to spend ‘em. You might treat this job as a frontiers run, but it’s more like a southward trip towards the safe zone for me. Our bases are also better stocked in these parts, so … I guess I didn’t really have to spend any money either way…”
“That sounds … hmm … boring … I guess. Oh! Dang it! Nearly forgot about this! We get fat bonuses if we get good people into RAYTHEAN! So, interested in becoming a Raytheanite…? Wow. What did you just throw at me? Wait. This is a RAYTHEAN Pass… You gotta be joking. You’re an ex-Raytheanite?”
“Yeah. Ex-Ray. They dechipped my pass when I left several years ago. I got to keep this as a souvenir.”
“So why did you…”
“Because ‘Innovation Makes Future’ became Innovation Makes the Big Bucks. I just can’t stand seeing new tech being used solely for profit. Look … RAYTHEAN is a good company, make no mistake about that… Maybe it’s just me who’s weird… Anyways, we need to stick together to survive the frontiers. Things would be better if there were more Raytheanites out here, right?”
“You have a point, but… Wait. I’m hearing a ringing noise…”
“It’s my comm device. My fellow crew mates must have noticed something wrong with my positioning signals. An SAR team should be on their way. We should try to get closer to the area’s border.”
“Wow. You’re a true survivalist! So, uhm… You’re really … not thinking about rejoining RAYTHEAN? They may have bonuses for returning Ex-Rays… Being a Re-Ray might be…”
“Get moving already. Sheesh.”

A novel concept of the year by Mieszko Industries. Let’s use it to celebrate the memories of the great Navigator who led us in our unending journey across Talos-II.

Interested in the story of the messenger named Falken Gravning?
Hardly any Terran remembered his name. What they did remember was his job — a Catastrophe Messenger.
Falken was born in the borders of Kazimierz and started this lonesome career when he was but a young man. With sturdy steps he hiked across mountains and navigated rivers to bring verified data of Catastrophe signs to villages, towns, and cities facing inevitable destruction. He was not a savior. The only thing he could do was to warn people of the “impending footsteps of annihilation”. Some were grateful, while others bore grudges. He suffered more than a few wounds, vile curses, as well as cold, hateful gaze over the years, and witnessed grave sacrifices as well. Suffocating depression constantly loomed over his soul.
When he turned 53, he decided to leave his homeland behind and devote the final years of his life to the newly discovered planet — Talos-II.
Here in the new world, he was no longer a “prophet of doom” but a mere common messenger. For those few short years, the serene, open expanses of Talos-II was free from Catastrophes and the ever-present threat of destruction. A sense of long-absent peace filled Falken. He took his backpack and roamed the lands between the pioneering bases, delivering letters, escorting supplies, and conveying intel with every trip.
When he had time for himself, he continued to travel alone. He even cobbled together several Originium devices to create a rudimentary aircraft. Though it flew awkwardly across the skies, he could land it upon unexplored wilderness. He climbed majestic peaks, waded through dark swamps, and left his footprints in this untouched realm.
He started to picture a beautiful future for the land untouched by Catastrophes — Once he retires, he would build a wooden cabin in some valley. He would also have a mountaintop summer retreat where he could enjoy clean, refreshing air. His notebook was filled with trails, routes, contour maps, and ideas for his “ideal home”. As he spread footprints across the world, more and more of the blank areas were filled.
Until that very day.
The day when the Ankhors fell from the skies and the Aggeloi descended upon Civilization. People were once again forced to flee as they had done with Catastrophes struck.
During the era of chaos, Falken once again took up his old profession. He became the most reliable guide and led the survivors in a desperate southbound trek of survival. People said he stepped up to the challenge in numerous occasions to mark out the road forward. He even flew that ramshackle aircraft of his into the storm, and returned with a beaten and badly wounded body. With experience, grit, and courage, he paved multiple trails of life for the refugees. Numerous outposts, villages, and towns were founded thanks to his way markers or verbal directions. Without Falken as their guide, many would fail to reach the Civilization Band alive.
But that was not the end of Falken’s journey.
During the last years of his life, Falken continued to journey south. He traversed the mountain ranges and roamed the entire Band until he finally arrived at the edge of the great ocean. Legend then claimed that Falken built a ship at that very place and sailed off to find a place even further south.
And Falken was never seen again after that.
A particular story was rather popular amongst the oceanic navigators of Talos-II Should one see a cloud, shaped like a raised mast with full sails at the place where the oceans and heavens meet, that would be “Falken’s Sail”, and that would be tidings for good weather.
People call him the “Navigator”. Falken’s story was told in every city, school, and port. He was a messenger, a pathfinder, a lonely traveler, and the one who raised the beacon high during humanity’s hour of darkness.
Mieszko Industries is proud to uphold this concept. Our latest series for this year have been imbued with the spirit of the Navigator. We dedicate it to every ambitious and courageous individual eager to face the boundless future.

“This is just a promotional tale. Is this all I’m going to read?”
“Of course not. I’m about to introduce this latest paper on the untold secrets of Falken Gravning.”
“Oh?”
“Falken Gravning kept going south because of his belief that another undiscovered Cosmic Gate may exist in the south pole of this world.”
“Another … Cosmic Gate? Is that even possible?”
“Who knows? Nobody could prove nor disprove it. Who knows? He might have found a way home at the end of the sea, or simply disappeared beneath the waves.”
“So…”
“So towards the end of his life, what kept the ‘Navigator’ going wasn’t his passion for exploration or adventure. It was a far more deeper desire — He wanted to go home.”

A legendary work of Northmarch Support Hub that perfectly embodies the style and virtues of Northmarch weapons. Features devastating firepower, total reliability, and absolutely abysmal handling and recoil.

“We’re the wedge that was hammered into Talos-II.” Mama always said those words.
When I was a kid, Mama always gave me a strong, tight hug after coming back from her shift. I kept telling her to change out of her crew outfit first. I felt I wasn’t getting hugged by mom. I was getting crushed by a hardware store and always ended up with a mess of sore, reddish imprints of hammers, pliers, wrenches, and even a big blasted handcannon on me.
And then she bought me those friggin’ buggly toys, you know. I’ve been seeing actual cranes, drill crawlers, dumpster trucks, crushers, and pile drivers in real life. I saw entire fleets of steel giants heading north every friggin’ day and every friggin’ year of my childhood. I did not want mini and fake versions of them in my toybox.
And mama never treated this world as “home”. She never stopped saying “Talos-II is just too dangerous. We’ll never make this our place.”
I’m a Talosian, born and raised, and could never really understand why she never stopped complaining. Yet those words left an imprint on me, like those hardware tools she carried when she gave me those powerful, crushing hugs. I never knew what “imprints” meant back then.
Then came a day when mama failed to come back from the north. Uncle Walther gave me her outfit. Them laundry crew didn’t wash it right and it still had this dark bloodstain on the collar. I held it tight to feel the familiar coarseness of the fabrics and the cold, hardness of her tools. And then I found that blasted handcannon — the big iron responsible for all those painful imprints I suffered. The thing sported a new dent beneath the barrel.
She emptied the magazine and then slapped an Aggelos real good with that big slab of iron.
I asked Uncle Walther to cast me a new barrel and furnish it with a chain cutter. I also got mama’s position when another convoy roared for the north.

‘Cause I’m the hardest wedge to be hammered into Talos-II.

A special gun manufactured by RAYTHEAN Industries. This experimental weapon is extremely difficult to use. Only a limited number of prototypes were released to the arms market.

“And thus I curse you all. Your blood shall flow across the barren lands and stagnate in pools of gore. Your people and everyone you love shall drown in the filth of your veins.”
These were written on the old memo. He thought about it for a while, took out his pen and paper, and started his own scribbles —
“Hardly anyone knows why Landbreakers would want to attack their own people. They used to be a rather cohesive organization led by a single leader… Though the LBs later splintered, such levels of hostility between the successor groups seem to lack a proper basis… The seething hatred so vividly reflected by these notes as well as the brutality personally inflicted upon LBs captured by the author of the said notes can only be described as … horrifying and gruesome…”
He paused, reflected upon his words, and felt rather displeased with his conclusions. His pen then started scrawling across the page once more.
“I attempted to identify a ‘common cause’ or ‘consensus’ in these hateful words. Perhaps the LBs committed a transgression that led to the current kill on sight mentality, or perhaps the LBs have started working on some malicious scheme that continues to this day… I have enjoyed my investigation of the secret truth behind LB history, both as my profession and as a personal pastime of mine. Unfortunately, the author of these notes was just a simple, homicidal brute. He hanged the entire family of his ‘breaker-pal’ over some petty division of loot.”
He paused again briefly, and then continued his scrawls with greater focus and intensity.
“Personal hatred means little. These words provide nothing to my goal of advancing the Security Act for Peace on Talos-II. We must make the very concept of Landbreaking criminal in every law and an anathema to our definitions for civilization. Their presence must be removed from every community, organization, and faction, legal or otherwise. Landbreaking must end to make humanity safe again.”
These words seem to lend him strength. His writings picked up speed and alacrity.
“Peripheral rot is a condition that plagues every civilization. This cancer is always there and can never be truly cleansed. However, we must demonstrate our firm resolve and initiate the strong measures to completely sterilize this malignant presence.”
He then concluded his own writings with one final line.
“I spent thirty years of my life as a Landbreaker. You must have faith in my words.”

A standard weapon produced by Endfield Industries. Design is provided by the Creative Prototyping Team founded by Senior Arsenal Engineer Opero. The weapon is constructed using lightweight, practical, and durable materials.

I raised my handcannon three times in my life.
When I raised a handcannon for the first time, I thought I had the entire world in my hands.
I had a fight with my old man. I didn’t want to study in a UWST med school for a cushy future. I hid in my bed and secretly binged on videos with my handyterm, things that my father never allowed me to watch Iberian Inquisitors and invincible Laterano Gun-Knights with weapons raised. I emulated the figures in the handyterm and fumbled with the old man’s big iron. I imagined the Arts coursing from my fingertips into the Originium circuitry within the weapon, propelling the non-existent etched ammo to create a non-existent hole in the wall.
……
When I raised a handcannon for the second time, I thought it was my last.
I departed from Valley IV to perform a field medical rescue operation at a nearby village. While the operation was underway, we were set upon by a vicious band of Landbreakers. We could only panic at that time. None of us expected to see LBs so close to Valley IV.
I activated the Originium comms and tried calling the Valley Fort for assistance. As the LB howling got louder and louder, I tweaked the frequency knob faster and faster. But all I got was static and noise. I raised my handcannon and squeezed the trigger blindly. Then I led the children and made for the Valley Fort at the distant horizon as fast as our legs could carry us.
……
I could not remember how long we ran upon the wildlands, but the day grew late. The pursuing LBs were long gone but I dared not lead the children back to their village. Who knows, there could be a trap waiting for us. I had already taken a few hits from crossbow bolts and my vision began to blur and swim. I could no longer make up the shape of the Fort, and could only trudge onwards as I struggled to recall what I saw during the ride to this place.
……
I collapsed, exhausted, and my body instinctively curled up. The children were trying as they tried to shake me awake. I told myself to keep my eyes open but my eyelids won the struggle. When I woke up the following day, I found myself lying in a Dusthair camp far from Valley IV. It was only then when I knew that we took off in the wrong direction, and it was the crying of the children that brought the Dusthair surgeon to my aid.
The experience taught me how powerless I was, and I would be better off pursuing a career in general practice and inherit the family clinic. I made up my mind to submit my resignation once my body recovered.
……
When I raised my handcannon for the third time, it was over a medal.
I saw my schooling days in a dream. My father, stern-faced as usual, listened to my med school instructors’ complaints about my oddness and peculiarities. The old man later went to my dorms. He did not confiscate my handyterm, but sat down and watched the videos with me. It was at that time when I saw him take out a medal that he never wore from a chest pocket.
I dreamed some more. It felt as though I arrived upon the Land shown in the videos. I ran across the plains with a handcannon. That medal turned into a bullet and I fired it into the sky.
That was when I woke. My entire strength seemed to had been sapped away by this dream.
I was sweating profusely upon the sickbed. I heard cries of surprise, shock, and terror. This time it wasn’t just the LBs. There were Ankhors as well.
I took out the handcannon from under my pillow. My father gifted it to me when he learned I joined Endfield Industries.
It was this very moment that I knew I would keep raising this handcannon for the fourth, fifth, or even the sixth time…