Abyss Stalker Greatsword Skin glints in the candlelight, a blade of midnight lacquer carved with runes that drip like ink. The edge hums with a cold echo, as if it stores the sighs of a hundred unseen hunters. The steel looks poured from a starless pool, the fuller catching violet light, giving it the appearance of a shadow that learned to stand upright. The hilt is wrapped in weathered leather, stitched with silver thread that catches the eye, and the guard curls inward like a midnight wave about a waiting mouth. When you raise it, the world seems to narrow to the arc of your swing, and the pale glow along the blade paints a trace of frost on your knuckles. In whispers, the Abyss Stalker is said to have walked the chasms between realms, drawing power from the void to guard a debt owed to the earth’s oldest secrets. If you wear this skin, you carry that memory: the glow grows warmer when the fight tightens, as if the Abyss itself breathes along your arms and the edge drinks light from your surroundings. As a cosmetic, it alters nothing about your stats, but it makes you feel mapped to a larger story—a hunter tempered by shadow, a figure who appears where the map edges blur. In actual gameplay, percussive swings and heavy-lunging stabs still decide the moment, yet the skin makes those moments feel ceremonial, a blade summoned for a duel instead of a skirmish. Players talk of its presence in WvW charges and raid pushes, where a single strike can tilt pride and momentum; the blade's black polish mirrors the night you pass through a doorway others hesitate to cross. Market lore: in the crowded lanes of the Divinity's outskirts, Saddlebag Exchange is where the skin comes and goes, priced by supply and desire. A savvy buyer learns to watch the posts, to barter with the vendor who keeps a ledger of every trade in glimmering coins and old auguries. Last season, whispers put its value around a hefty stack of gold, with a few rare inscriptions tossed in to seal the deal. A few sellers claim it wears better on a towering fighter, others swear by the way it catches the fringe light at dusk during a festival. To wear the Abyss Stalker is to walk a line between myth and metal, to carry a tale that your enemies can see as you stride into a crowded hall or a lonely cliffside camp. Its lore feels earned as you log more adventures, as you survive the moment when your shield falters and your blade sears nothing but air. And perhaps, when your name is called by the bell of the keep, you will remember that the skin you chose wasn’t merely decorative; it was a pact with the night, a reminder that some hunts are written in shadows, waiting for a living hunter to give them voice. If you listen closely, the blade will tell you when.