Your gateway to endless inspiration
"Look, it's a shooting star! Make a wish."
"I thought that the Vanguard told us all not to do that anymore, after the Ahamkara kept using it to secretly grant Guardians wishes against their will."
"Don't worry about that. They were all killed in the Great Hunt, remember? It is completely safe now."
"Fine, I suppose you are right. What should I wish for?"
"It really doesn't matter. Just think of a wish and think hard about it."
"Ok.
...There, I made a wish. Is it just me, or are your gauntlets a bit shinier? And do you hear that quite, raspy laughter?"
"Hehe. I'm sure your just imagining things."
_____________________________________________
Wow, that was the last one. Thanks to @destcember for the great prompts and thanks to everyone for reading! Happy New Years.
Of all the places that I have been, perhaps the one that awed me the most my first time being there was Mara Sov's throne world, specifically the Queen's Court. It was such a beautiful sight, looking out past the edge of the universe and seeing. I stood there for as long as I could, until Mara started less than subtly suggesting that I should leave. It isn't just her Court that is beautiful. While I was Dûl Incaru, what I saw of the rest of her throne world looked like it would be almost as awe inspiring as her Court once the damage Oryx did is repaired. If we ever manage to end all of the wars we are fighting, maybe I will be able to find myself a place with such a view. Perhaps a little home on Pluto, without any light pollution to obscure my view. Or, if I can master enough kinds of magic, I could carve myself out a bit of the ascendant plane. Hell, even the Drifter managed to get himself a slice to store his Taken monsters in, as small and ramshackle as it may be. Yeah, I think I'll look into that. Surely all that killing that I have had to do recently must be good for something.
Honestly, I think that humanity is cursed. Not the kind of curse that the Dreaming City is facing, mind you. No, I am referring to something much more subtle and intangible. At least in the Dreaming City, we know its source and can eventually find a solution. The curse that I'm talking about is more of a string of bad luck. A sort of twisting of fate that has landed us all in an almost impossibly bad situation. Just think about it. In only a few centuries, we went from several billion to just a few million people. We went from fully covering our planet and beginning to extend outward to a single city. We are now fighting at least four wars, depending on how you count, and are at war with every single alien species that we have encountered. The only being that has not tried to kill us is the Traveler, and it is currently more or less in a coma and it was the one that attracted most of our problems. In addition to all of the perpetual wars that we are fighting, a new, potentially world ending catastrophe pops up every every few months. One of our enemies suddenly has a new, stronger, more ruthless leader; or gains a new source of power; or one of their previously unknown plans, years in the making, is about to come to fruition. It has happened at least half a dozen times just since I was revived a few years ago and I assume it will keep happening indefinitely. Despite everything, I am still hopeful. I believe that we will break the curse on the Dreaming City, and then we will break the curse on humanity. And if we fail, then at least we can die trying.
I was born three times in my life. Once of flesh, once of iron, and once of Light.
My first birth was of flesh. This is the one that I know least about. I know that I was born a human boy, with parents and a family. I likely had a home. All of that is gone now. I cannot remember anyone or anything from that time, not even the way I looked.
My second birth was of iron. Taken from my human body and turned into and exo. I cannot be sure why I did it or how, but I think it was a choice that I made of my own free will. If I did choose it, it would have been to extend my life or to improve myself. That seems like what I would have done, if I were the same person then as I am now, which I am not entirely sure of.
My last birth was of Light. Revived as a guardian to serve humanity and live my third life. Thankfully, this life at least I can remember. Though my life ends almost daily, it never truly does, thanks to the power of the Light and my ghost. Since it is the one that I live now, it is the one that matters most, but if I were given a choice, I would learn all I could about my other two lives.
So, I was born three times. Born, reborn, reborn. Human, Exo, Guardian. Flesh born, Ironborn, Lightborn.
_____________________________________________
Sorry for the brevity and below average quality. I had an extremely busy day today and didn't have much free time to work on this.
There are a quite a few voices in my head. Most of them are my fault and can be suppressed. The whispers of worms, ahamkara, my conscience. All have easy solutions, but there is one that I can hardly hear. It whispers, quietly but insistently, in the very back part of my mind. I can almost never hear it, like a fly in another room. It gets quiter the further away from the City I get, but I know it's still there. But sometimes, when I die or am in the very center of the City, I can just make out the voice. It whisper so many things. PROTECT THEM. FIGHT FOR ME. GROW STRONGER. DON'T QUESTION. FORGET. OBEY. It isn't like the other voices either. They all seem to come from without, but this one emanates from within. Is it why I can't remember my past? I don't think that I should ask anyone about this.
Every time I sleep I have the same dream. I doesn't matter if I take a five minute nap or sleep for twelve hours, I dream of this and nothing else. I am standing in the a field of purple millet, stretching as far as I can see. There is a cool breeze at my back, pushing me forward. Behind me is the setting sun. In front of me is a tower, reaching up above the clouds. It is not The Tower, but is somehow just as familiar, even though I have no memory of ever being here while awake. I have to walk towards the tower, because the dream will never end otherwise. I have tried standing still, walking away, and even having Yew wake me up as soon as I fall asleep, but I only wake up once I walk into the tower. After a few minutes of walking, I reach a clearing. Across from me, the ornate doors of the tower stand, both imposing and inviting. But between myself and the doors, there is a massive yew tree, glowing slightly from within. Beneath the shade of its branches, there is a wooden table, two chairs, and a chess board, set just as I left it last time, white for me and black for her. Sitting across the table, reading a book and waiting for me, is the ahamkara Ephialtes. I have never seen her reading the same book twice and I have never found or heard of any of the books while awake, but she assures me they are all real. She doesn't always look the same, but across all her forms she retains her startlingly purple eyes and slightly too sharp teeth. Sometimes we talk, sometimes we play, but always she tries to strike a deal. Usually I refuse, but on a rare occasion, we can come to an agreement. Once we are done or I get tired of talking, I walk through the tower doors and wake up. I used to dream of other things, but I traded that away in our first deal. Hers were the strongest of the bones that I had collected, her whispers invading every waking thought while I was anywhere nearby. But, she was too knowledgeable and powerful, so it would have been an unbearable loss to rid myself of her. So I made her a deal. She would no longer whisper to me without consent and would use her power to suppress the whispers from the rest of my collection, and in return, she could inhabit my dreams, negotiating with me every night, and I wouldn't put her bones inside a silver lined safe and drop it into the Mariana Trench. She agreed and now I dream of this and nothing else. It isn't all bad. My old dreams were not that great and Ephialtes isn't bad company, if a bit manipulative. Enjoy your dreams, if you can. Sweet dreams.
It took me all year, but I've managed to find the perfect Dawning gift for everyone and today is the day I give them all out. I start in the Tower and work outward. For Ikora, I got a new bond. I had an amazing tailor in the City modify one of Cayde's old capes that I found in one of his caches. For Amanda, I got a new set of wrenches and engine that I salvaged from a Fallen skiff. For Banshee, I got a new gun repair kit and several interesting Dark Age guns from the Drifter. I gave the Drifter a few pieces of the Vex's Black Heart that I have been saving to research, since he is so interested in the Darkness, and a few cookies. I just met Ada recently, so all I could think to get her was as many of the pages from her book as I could reclaim from the Scourge Syndicate. I had gotten Eris a new wrap for eyes, but I guess that it will have to wait until I find her.
From there, I went out into the rest of the system. For Devrim, I got an assortment of rare teas from the City and the Reef. For Asher, I got him a sleeve for his human arm and metal polish mixed with a slight anaesthetic for his Vex arm. I also got him the core of Panoptes, which I managed to take before the simulation collapsed. Hopefully it will help with his research on a cure for his corruption. For the Spider, I found a number of the most ancient and interesting human artifacts that I could find and an intact ghost shell that I bought off the black market in the City. For Mithrax, I got the mantle of a Kell, in hopes that he will grow into it. I got Petra a fance eyepatch, a brand new knife, and panoramic picture of Mara's throne world. For Mara, and as a favor to Lord Shaxx, I brought her the bow that Shaxx bought her and his note, I found her several books of Shakespeare, including a new copy of the Tempest, and gave her my personal promise to do everything within my power to protect her reborn brother.
Finally, and most importantly, I made a brand new shell for Yew. That one was probably the most difficult one of all. To make sure that it would be a surprise, I convinced her to go on several tedious errands, taking messages for me all across the City and Tower. While she was gone, I payed Ada a small fortune in Glimmer, Shards, and favors in order to forge a nearly indistructable shell shielded by fine Black Armory metal. Then, I convinced Tess to help me make the shell aesthetically perfect and suited to Yew's tastes. It was more than worth all of the effort and cost to see her expression and happiness when I gave it to her.
I love the Dawning.
Praise the Sun. A gentle caress for friends. A warm, healing fire, cauterizing wounds, mending bones, and regrowing wounds. A searing flame to foes. Burning away the dark undergrowth, allowing new growth to flourish. Wielded by the benevolent protectors, the kindly healers, and those who want to burn away their foes.
Praise the Arc. The crackle of thunder is the only warning you will get before you dissolve into static and the smell of ozone. Bright and crackling, it stands at the eye of the storm, laughing as the wind whips and the rain lashes. With blades, bolts, and crackling fists it moves through the battlefield. Wielded by the restless, lovers of natural chaos, and those charged with emotions.
Praise the Void. The darkness between stars. The cold embrace of oblivion granted to those who dare to stand between it and its goal. The whispers that tell of forbidden secrets, the flicker of forgotten knowledge at the corners of your mind. With a cackle, it discovers that which it has searching for, be it the last scrap of information to solve a great mystery or a huddle foe, terrified of what they know is about to happen. Wielded by the dedicated scholars, the half mad holders of dangerous secrets, and those who stalk the night.
Praise the Light. The source of the each of the prismatic colors, Solar, Arc, and Void. The shining glimmer within the Dark. The last bastion of warmth against the cold night. It is the brilliant radiance that shines withing every guardians. But be wary, as the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and those who stare to long into the Light often look away to find themselves having become become fanatics or knights templar. And do not put down your guard, for wherever the Light goes, it is always followed by the Dark, as the Day is followed by the Night.
I've noticed that anyone who gives themselves a title of royalty, no matter their title or race, always seem to end of mad or dead. There are examples from every faction and species. The Eliksni have the Kells for royalty. As far as I know, they are all dead. Hopefully Variks and Mithrax will do better. The Cabal have have Emperor Calus, dethroned and probably more than a little mad, and Dominus Ghaul, dead at our hands. The Hive have the Osmium King, lost to the madness of the worms; King Oryx, Prince Crota, Prince Nokris, and the worm god Xol, all dead at our hands; and the worm god Akka, killed by their servant Oryx. The Vex have their pseudo-god the Black Heart, killed by us. Most of the Iron Lords have died horribly. The Hunter Vanguards have a terrible survival rate. Even the Awoken have had royalty follow the pattern, with Queen Mara Sov dying and Prince Uldren Sov both going mad and dying, though death seems to have been a bit more lenient for them. So, you should probably never take a title, as you are almost guaranteed to be a victim of madness, regicide, deicide, or some combination of the the three, probably by one of us guardians. Personally, I plan to follow my own advice and never get roped into ruling anyone.
The Drifter walks a fine line, a tightrope made of the sharpest razor wire. On one side lies the forces of the Light, with the forces of the Vanguard and the Man with the Golden Gun ready to strike if they suspect that he has gone too far. On the other, the forces of the Dark, ready to consume him or break his mind if he makes a mistake. If he wavers, he will fall to one side or the other. Too late to stop or turn back, he walks on, hoping to eventually reach his goal. He uses the the Dark to fight the Dark, using Guardians to kill the enemies of humanity and collect the Motes of Dark that fall from their corpses. His menagerie of constructed monsters and summoned horrors slaver to consume, accepting motes in lieu of consuming a guardian's light to turn their path of slaughter where the Drifter directs. But I've noticed however many motes he uses to conduct his games, there are always far more collected than used. I don't know what he plans for them, but I want in. I understand that it may take more than the Light to beat the Dark. So I work with the Eliksni and bargain with the Ahamkara. And I do his bounties, and earn the ranks, and bank the motes. I use weapons of the Dark Age and forged a new Weapon of Sorrow. I will earn his trust, even if it puts me on Malphur's list. Because I believe that the Drifter's Gambit will pay off, and when it does, I want to have been a part of it.
"Hey Ash."
"Yes?"
"I've been meaning to ask you. Where did you get that Fallen mantle that you're always wearing?"
"Oh, I got it from a high stakes on a Fallen Captain."
"Come on, you can't leave me with that. Tell me the whole story."
"Fine, but you have to promise not to tell anyone about this, alright?"
"I promise."
"So do you remember a while back when I helped an Eliksni Captain named Mithrax fight of a Hive Knight and he left me the reactor he was going after as thanks?"
"I do."
"I felt bad about taking the reactor that he needed so badly, so I search around and managed to find an alternative one. It wasn't nearly as good, but it was enough to get myself in his good graces. Since then, whenever I have fought any Eliksni and found extra either on them, I take it to Mithrax and his crew. I have managed to bring quite a lot. He has grown somewhat since we first met, probably from that extra either, and as thanks for my help, he gave me this mantle that he outgrew."
" ...You know that if the Vanguard found out about this, they would probably call it treason, right?"
"I do. That's why I said it is a gamble."
I've never been sure if we could trust Rasputin. I'm not like Zavala, thinking that we should just abandon attempting to gain his help completely, but he does seem erratic. He helped us to fight off Xol on Mars, but that was more out of self interest. He has abandoned us so many times in the past, despite his reason for creation being to help us. Where was he during the the Collapse and the Dark Age, when he could have been fighting off the Eliksni or helping us rebuild? Where was he during the Taken War, when he could have been helping us fight off Oryx? Where was he during the Red War, when the last bastion of humanity was being destroyed and the Light being snuffed out? I want to trust him, I really do, but where was he? Where was my Warmind?
One of the hardest parts of being a guardian is finding a worthy weapon to use. Personally, there are only three sources that I trust for consistent quality. The first is Ikelos and Rasputin. They consistently produce high quality weapons with devastating power, but at the cost of being a massive pain to obtain. Among my favorite of their work are the Sleeper Stimulant and the IKELOS_SG_v1.0.1. The second source that I trust is the Drifter and his old, possibly Darkness infused guns. His ancient Dark Age weapons have a brutality that the Vanguard just isn't willing to produce. It took me a long time to get him to hand over his best stock, especially the Breakneck and Malfeasance. The final source is a new addition to my list, Ada-1 and her Black Armory. I haven't managed to get much from her yet, but everything that I have convinced her to give me has been a piece of art, beautiful and deadly. So, if you're in the market for a new weapon, go with one of these three. You won't regret it.
"Are you sure now is the time to be dancing?"
"I'm sure."
"Because you are surrounded by Hive."
"Yes Yew, I know that."
"Then why are you dancing?"
"Because I am completely out of ammo, grenades, melee abilities, rifts, and health and we are in a Darkness Zone, so you can't revive me here. I have 30 more seconds until I can use my super and the only thing I could think to do to stall was dance. If I stop now, they will kill us both. So, that is why I'm dancing"
"Oh, well I suppose dancing is what to do."
People often long for past days. The days before the Collapse, back in the Golden Age. And it makes sense, considering how hectic things have been recently. But for me, past days have never been what I longed for. I can't remember my past, so all I have to long for is the future. And I do believe that the future will be better than the past, even better than the Golden Age. Though we have lost much since then, we have gained much too. We are more diverse than we were, having gained the Awoken, the Ghosts, and hopefully someday the Fallen too. We are more unified than ever before, being joined into one by tragedy. We know we are not alone, that there are others besides ourselves and the Traveller. If we fight for it, the future will be better than the past. So long not for past days and instead work towards future days. May our second Golden Age far outshine our first.
A lone guardian falls to the ground, finally succumbing to their numerous wounds, inflicted by the Red Legion invaders. The ground around them is carpeted with the bodies of their fallen foes, having taken down dozens before falling to the endless tide. Though they still live, they are unable to so much as lift their head, weakened as they are from their wounds and the loss of their Light. A Cabal Gladiator approaches, flanked by several Legionnaires, moving confidently now that their prey is weak. The guardian can only watch as the Gladiator approaches, hoping that their resistance has bought the civilians they were protecting enough time to escape. The Gladiator chuckles as it saunters up to the guardian, raising its sword to strike the final blow. But before the sword can fall, the Gladiators helmet and head are crushed by a massive chunk of debris, thrown from above. As the body of their comrade crumples to the ground, the Legionairs look up in shock, only to suffer a similar fate. From the roofs, a number of citizens look on, satisfied with their grim work. From an alleyway, two more emerge, each gently slinging one of the Guardian's arms over their shoulders and carrying them away. Just as the Guardain had guarded them, now they would guard the Guardian.
The best weapons are forged in battle. Guns are a good example of this principle. The Whisper of the Worm is the remnants of a dead god, left to us to feed it in the manner of the Sword Logic after we were able to kill three enemies of the past, revived to fight us once again. Also exemplary are the weapons offered by the Black Armory. Every weapon they produce is a lethal work of art, all because of their delicate calibrations from data gathered through combat. But the best proof of all is guardians. Sure, you could train a guardian in peacetime, without any practical combat, but something would be lost. Battle forges a guardian, hardening us to the trials that we face while fighting. The pain of bullets ripping into your body. The searing burn of a grenade or rocket hitting just at your feet. The icy grip of death, albeit temporary. Without battle to harden us, when the time comes, we would break.
I've read a number of books from before the Collapse. In some of the fantasy novels, there was a creature known as a lich. A monster of magic and undeath, living forever as long as they could protect their philactery, but having to kill endlessly in return for their power. In some ways, we are like them. We have been granted powers of Light and eternal life as long as we can protect our Ghosts. In return, we serve the Light, killing the enemies of humanity, over and over, thousands and thousands. There is once difference, though. In the stories, they were always the villains, selfish for living forever and killing others. We, however, are the heroes, praised for our endless lives and slaughter in the name of humanity. I suppose times have changed.
Humanity has more enemies than it should. If at all possible, we should try to negotiate with them. This isn't an option for all of our enemies, of course. The Vex have no place for us in their Pattern. To the Hive and Taken, the very idea of peace would be blasphemous. The Scorn have been corrupted by the Darkness, and even if they hadn't been, killing all of their leaders in a quest for revenge has probably made us permanent enemies. Some of our enemies, though, I think that we can reason with. Under Calus, we would be able to join the Cabal in their empire, or, since I doubt most of humanity would be on board for that, at least ally with them against the Darkness. The Eliksni are our best bet for an alliance. Everything they they want is reasonable. They want a new home on Earth and their Great Machine back, both of which we could share. We even have an alliance with some of them already, such as Veriks and the Spider. They are quite good people once you get to know them and they hate the Darkness as much as us. If we could have any of our enemies as a friend, I think it would be them.
"I love the snow, don't you, Yew?"
"It is a nice change of pace."
"It reminds me of the day that you found me, back in Old Russia."
"Yes, it was in the middle of a blizzard. I had to tunnel down through five feet of snow to reach your body."
"And then, after you revived me, it took me an hour to dig myself out. At least I didn't have to worry about freezing or suffocating, being an exo and all."
"That was quite a relief. I was worried that I would have to revive you several more times before you could reach the surface."
"Then, after I had finally dug myself out, I ran straight into a pack of Eliksni hunters."
"I did have to revive you several times at that point."
"After I managed to fight them off, I had to trek miles to find that broken down ship. It was nice to get to know you, though... That was a long day."
"Indeed."
"Why do I like the snow again?
"I do not know."
Knowledge is power. That has been my mantra since I was revived in service to humanity. When I awoke without any memory of myself or the world, I wanted to know. To know where I was, to know who I was, to know what I was, because if I could just know, then I would be fine. But with every answer I learned, another question sprung up and the desire to know never abated. I think that's why the Traveler brought me back, to learn about all I could for the sake of humanity. So, now I research the deepest parts of the Darkness, the searing brightness of the unknown parts of the Light, and the strangest mysteries of our universe. I collect the whispering bones of the Ahamkara that we destroyed because we could not control them or tame their parasitic nature. I fight into the depths of Hive strongholds to steal their tomes and objects of power. I make deals with Cabal and Eliksni to learn about their history and their culture. I work with Osiris to unravel the machinations of the Vex. And even though I am set in my course, the Vanguard still seek to dissuade me. Stare not to long into the Abyss, they warn, lest it stare back at you. But I must continue to to learn, for it is better to risk losing myself to find a light than to stumble blindly into the night.
I admire Petra and her Corsiars greatly, probably more than anyone else, in the Reef or the City. Unlike us guardians, they don't have the luxury of returning after death, and yet they fight just as bravely as any of us to protect what is worth fighting for. Even though they are caught in a time loop by Riven's last curse, I have let to see a single on give up or try to run. Perhaps the best example I have seen of this is Amrita Vae. When Petra called for her Corsairs to return and protect the Dreaming City, without a hint of hesitation, she abandoned the home she had made for herself on Earth and risked her life to help reclaim the Reef. Every three weeks, I find her gravely injured, having failed to protect the relics she was assigned to guard. And yet, the next time the cycle repeats, she is there again, having stayed to fight, despite knowing what would happen to her and that she would fail again. That is why I always come when Petra calls for our help, despite so many other guardians having abandoned their eternal conflict. Because if the Corsairs refuse to give up on on their home and what they believe is worth fighting for, then who am I to give up on them.
"Hey, Yew."
"What is it?"
"I bet I could jump that canyon on my sparrow."
"You said that last time."
"Yeah, I can definitely do it."
"You said that last time, too."
"I fail to see your point."
"Last time, you didn't even make it halfway. You fell 1000 feet and died."
"Eh, I'm sure I can do it this time, though."
"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
...
"See, I told you I could do it."
"Yes, but after you landed, your sparrow rolled 15 times and then exploded, breaking both your legs and an arm and leaving you in the middle of a group of hive, under the feet of an unusually large ogre."
"But I did it, didn't I."
"Yes."
In a way, I'm a relic of the Golden Age. A machine, once human, freed from their mortal coil by the technology of a better time. I don't have anything left from back then but myself. Luckily, my old self had the foresight to think about what would happen if their memory was ever wiped, as tends to happen to exos. Soon after I was revived, I found that I had name and a phrase ingraved into my arm, apparently in my own handwriting. It said "Keep your name and keep your tally" above which was written Adar-I. I've since added another line to my tally, because losing my memory to a death is just as bad as to a reset, I suppose. So, I have my true name and my count, Ash-2. It's not not much, but it's more than most other guardians have managed to hold on to from their past life and I'm thankful for it.
In my studies, I have come across the bones of a number of ahamkara. They whisper to me when I examine them, offering wealth, power, knowledge, or whatever else I wish for. Every one of them has a slightly different manner of tempting, but they all seem to have one thing in common. They never say my name. It's always "oh bearer mine" or the like. I know they can read minds, at least to some extent, as they always try to offer what I want at that moment. Hell, I've even had one try to offer me a bowl of ramen before. But I have never had one say my name. So, the last time one tried to make me an offer, I made them an offer instead. If they could say my name, I'd take their deal. They must have been silent for a full minute before admitting that they couldn't. I must have made it angry, as it hasn't whispered to me since, so whatever knowledge I could have gleaned from it is lost forever. But it was worth it, because it was both hilarious and reassuring that they don't know everything.
In the Vanguard, your duty always comes first. Everything other than your duty to the City and its people is secondary, as Zavala will happily tell you if you ask, or, more often, if you ever do anything that indicates to him that you might even think otherwise. Personally, I could never get behind that mentality. Of course, I still believe in protecting the City and all, but not to the exclusion of all else. Zavala's mindset on duty boarders on both tyranny and cowardice. He attempts to ban all guardians from searching out their past, reasoning that they would have to leave the city to do so. When Ana tried to help Rasputin, Zavala constantly tried to discourage her, on the grounds that we couldn't control Rasputin, never thinking that maybe we didn't need to. He never pushes advantages or goes on the offensive, only holding on to what we have and, more often than not, nearly losing that too. But, the final straw for me was his pathetic treatment of our greatest friends and allies. When Cadye was murdered, rather than sending an army of guardians or even a single fireteam to avenge our friend, Zavala refused, saying that our duty to the City was more important. Then, when I took the initiative and hunted Uldren down myself, he had the nerve to act high and mighty, both saying that I shouldn't have done it and that he would have done the same in another life. So, that's why I'm no longer in the Vanguard. Because in the Vanguard, it is duty before self and duty before reason, with a spineless tyrant in charge of it all.
So many guardians see our fight against our enemies in black and white. We are the heroes, dauntless knights fighting endlessly against the forces of evil, who long only to destroy us solely for the furtherment of evil. But things are never that simple. Every one of our enemies has their own stories and reasons to take up arms against us. The Cabal who so recently destroyed us are merely foot soldiers in a vast empire, knowing not why they attack, just following the orders that were passed down to them from a chain of command that they have no authority to even question. The Vex are fighting against the inevitable, for ever trying to stave of the heat death of the universe, warping time, space, and causality in service to their salvation, their "Pattern". The Fallen are lost nomads, with no home to call their own, their homeworld destroyed by the Darkness that we fight so hard against. Now they chase after their Great Machine, hoping, just like us, for the chance to reclaim their golden age. The Scorn have been corrupted by a force greater than them, using the Darkness in an attempt to free themselves from their dependence on Either and Servitors and to bring back those they lose to the deaths that we so often inflict upon them. The Hive and Taken, servants of the very Darkness itself, have their reasons as well. The Hive are slaves of their own free will, eternally killing and destroying to feed their worms, lest they be consumed themselves. They only chose this path for themselves after being in dire straits, with their choices being to take the worms into themselves and serve the Worm Gods, or have their species wiped out by an approaching disaster. Now they fight to survive, to bring the universe to its "final shape" and live forever by becoming death. The Taken, perhaps most pitiful of all, have no will of their own, being puppets to a will greater than their own, often being forced to fight against their former allies and kill those they once called friend. Even the Darkness may have a reason for their actions, though even I doubt that. To each of them we are the boogeymen, immortal monsters that can slaughter their way through hundreds of valiant warriors, with terrible powers of scorching light and weapons that have been known to kill even gods, before dying, only to return seconds later as if nothing ever happened. So, next time you begin to think in black and white, consider what I have said today and what your enemies think of you.
As a guardian, you become very thankful for the little joys. Among them is the rare gift of a hot shower. When you're out in the field, you accumulate more grim than you'd think possible. Every enemy splatters you with something or other, from the simple blood splatter of a Fallen fighter to the splash of a dying Vex's radiolorium. Fighting the Cabal is the worst of all, as whenever you shoot one of them in just the right spot, their suits depressurize and spray everything around them with a thick coating of black oil. When there is finally a moment without an impending disaster to halt, I get to go home and wash all of the grime off. Just a little bit of Solar Light will keep the water hot for hours. Another rare joy is the privilege of a full night's sleep. Technically, guardians don't need to sleep, as whenever our ghost revives or heals us, they bring us back to maximum compacity, and that includes being fully rested. Of course, after a few weeks without sleep you start to feel a bit less human, or Awoken, or, as in my case, Exo. It is an amazing feeling to slip into the comforting ablivion of a dreamless sleep. The last small joy is that of good meal. Being both an exo and a guardian I could probably go forever without eating, but where is the fun in that. My favorite place in the City is a little ramen shop that Cayde introduced me to. They have the best ramen of every kind, possible the literal best in the world with all that's happened to humanity recently, and a fine assortment of alchohol to forget your troubles and deaths. All together, it's the little joys that add up to make an amazing day, even after weeks of disasters.
I was asleep in my appartment when the when the Red Legion sealed the Traveler's Light. The change was so stark that it immediately jolted me into conciousness. It was like the constant, soothing fire of the Void Light in my chest had been extinguished, leaving me cold and weak. I tried to rouse Yew, but the most she could produce was a flicker of light or the occasional distorted word. I was going to be on my own for a long while.
Then, I heard the screaming. Cabal drop pods were falling from the sky, smashing buildings and people unlucky enough to be caught in their path. From them poured hundreds of legionaries, psions, and ever other kind of soldier at their disposal. I saw squads of legionaries rounding up everyone that they found fleeing and executing them, while incendiors and war beasts flushed out anyone who had managed to hide. Even without my Light or a chance of being brought back if I died, I had to do something to help.
Luckily, I had prepared to have to flee the City, as with all of the enemies of humanity in the system, I figured that an attack on the City was inevitable. All the weapons that I had stored in the vault were gone, but I always keep a few hidden away in my home and on my person. I took every weapon I could carry and the books and artifacts that I could not afford to let burn with my home. I gently placed Yew in bag and then abandoned the soon to be ruins of my home. As I fled the City, I gathered any survivors I could find, leading them down the burning back alleys and through a series of tunnels that ended outside the Wall. Once we were clear, I brought my bedraggled group to a pack of Eliksni that I had managed to befriend, having brought them any either tanks that I had found while patrolling the system, and called in every favor I had. And with that, I turned back to the burning city. I didn't have the light or my ghost, but I had allies and preparation, and that would have to do.
I don't get to go home often recently, with all my time being split between helping Petra keep the Dreaming City from falling to the Taken or Scorn and trying to track down the Scourge Syndicate and their stolen weapons. When I do get a chance to take a break, I have an apartment deep in the Last City. A lot of guardians prefer to live in the Tower, but living up there has never appealed to me. Too much Vanguard supervision, asking hard questions and giving me sceptical looks when I come back with a new set of Hive tomes or Ahamkara bones to study or a few tanks of either for my Eliksni friends. The citizens though, they don't ask questions or give looks, just chalking it up to the eccentricities of a guardian. They never mention the whispers from the bones inside my silver plated cases, no matter how loud they seem to me. I find it reassuring to see so many people happily going about their lives, even when everything seems like it's all going to hell outside the walls. I don't agree with Zavala on many things, but at least we agree on this. This city is my home and its people are worth protecting.