This DLC contains one Hunter, two Weapon Skins, and one Tool Skin:
Born in the darkness of the same sunken crypt where she was once buried alive, Angel of Death paints the bayou with blood that’s black as ink in the moonlight. Is she a specter? A murderer? Death itself? Perhaps it’s best to count no option out.
When the woman who became Angel of Death was buried alive, she wasn’t alone. There was also a collection of cursed weapons that belonged to the tyrant she'd betrayed. This Drilling was among them, its inherent darkness evident with every bullet fired
Midnight winds taunt Angel of Death with the quiet threats of the Night Tyrant. A shot from this Sparks Pistol Silencer mimics those whispers. With every kill, she can feel the cruel spirit of its original owner merging with her own, poisoning her with his bloodthirst.
When she was trapped in the shadows of her tomb’s embrace, Angel of Death used these Dusters to break down the weathered marble and set herself free. Compared to the challenge of escaping death through solid stone, flesh and bone are no match in comparison.
Next time you wander the grounds of Blanchett Graves after dark, notice the change in the air when the moon is high and its sickly light washes over the bayou. Heed the wind that carries tortured whispers, urging you to take a longer route to the bounty. Beware her stare, they might say. Beware her ravenous scythe.
Beware the Angel of Death.
There are those who do not: One climbed the church’s steeple, crying into the winds that he had seen the face of Death, that he was ready to ascend into some Corrupted heaven. Then he jumped, silent as falling ash until he met the dirt below.
Another victim abandoned her team to double back to Blanchett for a prize she’d seen earlier. Later, they found her head shoved crudely over the top of a graveside statue. The weeping porcelain angel had a new face now, with new eyes which cried a new kind of tears.
John Victor didn’t believe in ghostly tales. This so-called “Angel” was surely nothing more than another Hunter gone to madness. Tales of her scythe prepared him for a closer fight, but his partner was picked off before even entering the grounds. Rattled, Victor's eyes followed the source of the sound: a raised gun that looked to be made of the same shadow that held it, the figure’s dripping skull catching just a glint of moonlight before disappearing into the dark. She must not have seen him.
The next time he slept, there were nightmares unlike any he’d endured before. Visions of a Hunter soaring head-first into the ground. Another with her head stuffed onto a statue.
Beware, the head in the dream whispered. Beware the ghost of Blanchett Graves.
Are ghost stories true? Around these parts, Hunter, it just depends on who you ask.