300 hunters turn round and stare ominously at you as golden guns and arc blades start to pop. We all turn to each other at the realization of the smell of burning steel before we can even bum rush you a golden gunner from behind turns your once weak armor into a smoldering pile of ash and charred corpse stepping in the remains as he walks in he picks up your helm of the saint and destroyed it pocketing an exotic shard as he walks in and shuts the door. Stunned to see the horde of supercharged hunters. "Oh. Uh. You didn't mind if I clean the place up did Ya?"