Forums » Sci-Fi Roleplay » Thoughts and Wonders All Forsaken. (Destiny RP)

He remembers very little of what happened on the Tangled Shore.

It's not that he's rebooted, however; rather, it was a blind rage and a seething need for vengeance that drove him forward, not sparing a second thought to what happened around him.

He remembers the Barons and the Scorn. The Cabal, the Vex, the Hive and the Fallen all closing in on one location -- he remembers the chaos that comes with one Lightbearer such as himself. There's a brief, fleeting memory of void crackling over carbon fibre mesh, seeping into steel plating as he generates two blades of the dark, the speed of which he moves increasing tenfold. He remembers the fast pace of which he slaughters -- all enemies, all targets, no hesitation. He doesn't remember, however, why he did such a thing. Why? He had forsaken his training as a Gunslinger for the Void's embrace, and that's all he knows.

Saber takes a deep breath as he transmats into Thieve's Landing on the Tangled Shore -- he wonders, briefly, if Petra is still nearby, if Spider has anything of value to him. In saying that, he doesn't find value in much anymore. The value behind stolen loot, or scavenged material... It's not the same as it once was. He misses the feeling of satisfaction he gets when he returns to the Vanguard, solar energy flickering across his persona as Cayde gives him a pat on the back for a job well done. Now, it's cold. There's no congrats, or friendly pat. It just is.

And now he wanders through the Tangled Shore, pulling back a bowstring, arrow at the ready.

One, two. Inhale, exhale. Release.

The Fallen Vandal falls with the single shot.

He sees a friendly blip on his radar and swings around, optics glaring through the Wormhusk Crown he adorns, the red and white and black figure standing ever still with the bow lowering.

"What do you want?"

“Are you sure it was a good idea to come out here alone,” the Ghost asked his Exo Guardian, still unaware of the hidden form, “we could get attacked by anything, and I really don’t want to get dismembered by any explosive “presents” again.” The Exo turned to glare at the Ghost for a second. “Sirius,” he spoke, “I’m well aware of the dangers of the Tangled Shore. Besides, we’ve learned to avoid the bombs, despite your over cautious behavior. We’ll be...” It was then that they noticed the dark Exo appearing close by, a Fallen Vandal at his feet. “We don’t want any trouble,” Sirius explained, “we’re just passing through.” His Guardian gave another glare before turning back to the other.

Saber gives pause, before slowly putting away his bow. He doesn't see them as a threat -- he knows better than to deem other Guardians a threat, of all things. Besides, the other Exo seems nice, and Talon... Well, the little Ghost was hiding in the Hunter's hood of his cloak, nervous to come out.

"Hey, no, it's cool. Sorry, I'm..." Saber sighs, to the best of his Exo ability, "... I'm just incredibly on edge."

"On edge is the understatement of the century," Talon chimes, peeking out of the hood to let himself be known to the other Guardian and his own Ghost, "you've been paranoid and upset since... You know."

Saber glances to his Ghost, then back to the other Guardian. "He's-- yeah, he's right. I'm sorry. But, uh, I guess it's a good a time as any to get to know each other? I'm Saber-3, and this is my Ghost, Talon. We're out on the Tangled Shore just because it's the only place I can seem to focus and I need to get some frustrations out. Why are you out here though? Not many Guardians want to come to the Shore."

“We’re...” Sirius began before the Guardian held up his hand, Vex implaments standing starkly against his Exo shell. “We’re hunting down a murderer.” he growled, clearly enraged that this has happened. “Pyre-5,” He turned back, realizing that he had been staring at the Vandal with a not-so-hidden rage, “and this is Sirius. Hope my...’deformities’ didn’t scare you. Not that it matters, of course.” “I don’t know if pointing those out was a good idea,” Sirius argued, “especially in front of another Exo.”

The Exo removes his helmet and pushes back the hood -- always easier to see without it, always easier to speak. He raises an optic ridge at the mention of "deformities", having not looked over the other properly, so he glances over Pyre and-- ah. It's a strange sight to behold, he won't lie. With all the Vex implants and it connecting to the Exo frame... He can barely imagine himself with all the Vex technology intertwining with his own. How long has this poor guy been living with this? It sounds too horrible to experience, no less have to live with.

Saber now understands why Pyre would think that about himself now, and decides against making any comment about it -- a long forgotten memory is briefly remembered. Don't say anything if you have nothing nice to say. The memory it comes from disappears as soon as he remembers it.

"Hey, I ain't judging," is the response he gives, adding a touch of friendliness to it. He glances to the Vandal he had killed before glancing back to the other Exo. Hunting a murderer? "Hunting, huh? That's more a Hunter's job, ain't it? Nah, just kidding, I've seen plenty-a Guardians on the hunt lately, but it's usually for the same thing. So! In saying that, who are you after? Any of the remaining Barons, Uldren... Or are we talking more personal than those guys?"

((Apologies; I got carried away, then lost the post entirely, so I was unable to respond...til now, if this is still on.))

“A bit more personal,” Pyre-5 clenched his fists, “if you see Kaniks, could you tell him that I’ve got a little ‘present’ to repay his ‘gift;’ a full round of ammunition stuffed down his crazed explosive throat, with a cherry bomb to top it off!” Sirius sighed, turning back to Saber. “Sorry,” he apologized, “he’s been like this after Kaniks sent a bunch of Screebs and mines to kill us. Well, that and the whole taunting of Cayde by the Scorn Barons; really sets him off.” “They aren’t fit to say his name,” Pyre shouted at seemingly no one, “they say I belong in the dirt; I say I’ll put them back six feet under for what they did to him! They’re like animals, and I’ll slaughter them like animals; I HATE THEM!!!” His eye(s) began to crackle with lightning, the raging storm beneath nearly unleashed upon this completely innocent Guardian until he managed to calm himself; harmony within, hurricane without, he repeated to himself as he sat down, Sirius floating by his side. “I’m really sorry,” he sighed, “the storm almost...the death of Cyade’s been really hard on me. I won’t rest until I help put a bullet in Uldren’s head.”

Light shuffling of feet across the dirt spawns a long cloud of dust, roughly scattering the indigo hues of the Tangled Shore. Exo eyes lay focused on the tracks leading her movement. Crona-8 had been pursuing this stealthed vandal for the larger portion of 10 minutes, the trouble of the chase which was once exciting had now died into irritation. She halted and stiffened however, upon hearing the sound of chatter from a lower vantage point. Intrigued, she scanned the horizon to find two guardians in conversation – both exo as she. Commonality comforted her as she gazed a bit longer before returning her handcannon to its holster and traversing the hill down to them. It’d been a while since she’d run into others – since she had a conversation – since she could be merry with others as a reminder to what set them apart from the Fallen and Scorn she encountered daily. As she paced toward them, her eyes caught the flicker of an abnormal reflection – an anomaly in air – the vandal she had been stalking was closing in on them. “Dishonorable vermin, I’ll put you down”, she muttered to herself, cloaking and quickening her speed to intercept the fallen. She arrived just as the vandal was prepping his rifle, sliding her Quickfang across his throat as the red warmth splattered out onto her face. Her serious tone quickly melted into excitement as she turned on her heels, now uncloaked, to face the guardians, “I finally got that bastard!” she boasted, irrationally assuming the strangers would share in her elatement.

The sudden commotion just a few feet away drew his attention to a now dead Fallen Marauder, its ether running from its slit throat. The Guardian standing above it was not too surprising, seeing as a lot of Lightbearers had a grudge against Uldren for Cayde’s murder; although, her reasoning might have been different from his own, or from the now offline Exo beside him. What truly shocked him was how she hadn’t started shooting at him because of the Vex parts painfully grafted to his metallic skin in the experiments of Thyrkeon, Conscious Made Infinite.

“So you did,” he stood, robes hiding the azure glow of Radiolaria forced into his chest, “and pretty well, it seems. What brings you to the Shore, I wonder; vengeance, glory, wealth, or something more personal?” He wasn’t trying to drive her off, though neither was he trying to draw her in; in a way, it was an experiment to see her reaction to what he had become since the storms had passed.

As the warmth of the sticky liquid dripped from her face, Crona-8 took a moment to truly inspect the surroundings she had thrown herself into. Her mood grew more visibly solemn noticing the Vex grafts. She could not locate the white glow of Vex milk and yet these parts seemed integral to the 'Exo' – at least they certainly served some purpose beyond simple decoration. To this, mechanical muscles tensed and she lifted the blade she still held skyward to rest inches from the stranger’s throat. “Did I, perhaps, make a mistake somewhere in the last few minutes I wonder”, she orated slowly to herself, her voice distinctly lower than her celebratory exclamation moments earlier. The stranger was tall, and though she herself towered above most, she held her posture high to maintain equal footing. She tilted her hear sideways curiously, lifting his chin with the blade lightly, squinting slightly while inspecting. She bit her cheek considering the question, “I suppose you could say I’m sightseeing – and I certainly have now seen a new sight. What are you? The newest experimental breed the Vex have cooked up?”

A flicker of pent tension, a bolt of lightning; channeled to the inner depths of himself, a charge to store until needed. “In a way, yes,” he muttered, “I am...was...Pyre-5, and this is Sirius,” indicating his Ghost, who had also been ‘upgraded’ to keep him alive, “and, as you can see, we have been transformed, made ‘greater’ and ‘near-perfect’ by the Vex Thyrkeon and its Collective.” The bitterness in his time was enough to let her know that he still clung to the past with a vice-like grip, each string of anger molded into his electric power, shot back at those who stood in his way. “Go ahead,” he chuckled bitterly, “have your fun; hunt me down, kill me, laugh at this abomination before you.”

Something buried in the stranger’s words aroused something in her. Though the cloud of distrust still hung motionless above, it had dissipated faintly enough to make room for a strange slurry of empathy – of pity? Her joints set into motion without thinking and she lowered the blade’s edge, perplexed by the odd sense of guilt traversing her frame upon witnessing the self-deprecation. Crona shook her head vigorously as if to subdue her compassion and locked eyes with the form before her as if to remind him of her alertness. “You are… interesting”, she concluded, allowing the word to drift softly, motioning vaguely to the modifications, “I must admit I do not fully understand. And understand me, make one incorrect move and I will take you up on your offer for ‘fun’. But, I do wonder: have you connections to the…” she chewed her words before continuing, “hive mind? If you feel connection to the mind, hell, even if you do not, you must know the danger you pose to guardians you encounter… you are ok with this truth?” She exhaled slowly, interested in his response to this truth.

He was used to such threats, although more direct in extreme cases; point being, he was isolated because of this. “I have connections to the Collective, yes,” he admitted, “but they allow me to retain my free will for their profane ‘experiment’ I am forced to perform. I am well aware of the danger I could pose, though in truth you should be more concerned for the other far more than myself.”

In the process of his ‘rebirth,’ Pyre-5 had been part of a larger group, though only two others actually survived the experience; a Fallen called Skoliks and his once-brother Cryo-3, a fellow Warlock whom had been warped into nothing more than a puppet after his integration.

Other? her mind inquired, staring down the composite before her. "If you know the risk you pose to others... and you are on the side of humanity", she considered her own conclusion before releasing it, "then why would you not have yourself bound and neutralized? Of course you worry me with mention of others but they do not stand before me now as you do." she gestured toward him. Every answer only provoked further questions in Crona.

"I suppose I should return the question you gave to me: Why are you here?" she probed, slowly concluding that she would need to remain near this 'exo'. If not imprisoned or restrained in some way, her only choice would be to follow him with a watchful eye to assure the safety of the fellow guardians he may encounter. She eyed the integrated vex pieces carefully, caution so obviously placed on her face.

“You think I haven’t tried already,” he muttered fiercely, “everything I do isn’t enough; the storm desires freedom, to rage and engulf anything or anyone standing in its path. I cannot he contained, or the Arc will clash with the Radiolaria, both of which will cause untold devastation. I know of the threat I could pose, and if you feel the need to keep vigil over my actions, I will not refuse the aid should my...additions begin to act up.”

“Are you sure she can be trusted,” Sirius asked privately, “I’m certain she seems eager to either chain you up or kill you; I know it seems like paranoia, but the less people we put our faith in, the less we let them, and ourselves, down when the storm breaks through.” Pyre sighed, a solemn breath in the eye of a hurricane. “I have little choice; she’ll follow even if I reject her aid. Besides, if I do lose myself, it’s just an extra gun already aimed at me.”

In the back of her mind Crona calculated the odds that she would one day need to put down the man before her - or at least try. She found the probability to be uncomfortably high but she also could envision no other responsible option. Cursing beneath her breath, she truly wished she could not care but though her body were metal, her mind was still human and it couldn't be helped. "I feel I'm left with no real choice," she confessed, "although I suppose you would know all about that feeling". She began to holster her weapon as a sign of good faith but hesitated, looking up at Pyre-5. Her face displayed her uneasiness with the action as she at last decided it should remain out - she could only hope he would understand.

"Night is coming. Will you rest or continue without the guidance of sol?" she questioned with a flat tone, "and again, please tell your goal here? You seek to take down this 'other'? And what after that? What will you do with yourself?"

“I do not tread the path of Sol,” he replied, “neither do I wander in the darkness; I walk by the light of the Arc, and such is what guides my way. I’ll rest for the moment, but the Vex never truly slumber; the mind travels in the vast Network of the Collective wether I will it or not, and the knowledge they withhold from the Light and Dark.” He sat down on a nearby rock, his Vex-crafted Garden-Prodigy scout rifle leaned up against the purplish stone. His red eye closed, and his body began to crackle with small bolts of lightning, rushing over him as a current washes down a river.

(Don’t know why, but I’m feeling philosophical tonight...)

*The Vex never truly slumber* his words ricocheted in her mind - this is what concerned her - so much so that she was willing to ignore the avoidance of her question. This was more pressing. As he sat, she remained standing, running the flat end of her blade over her other hand, examining it for defects, dents, and debris. The continuous crackling of arc energy kept her on edge. "Though you may not need rest..." she began, turning the blade to examine the other side, "I do to maintain the harmony between my mind in this foreign body. Though sleeping while you are awake seems..." she wondered whether she would need to be careful with her wording. Looking upward for the correct word, she finished her statement, "dangerous." At last she rotated the sword to examine the tip, ensuring it had not grown dull. "Is it not possible to 'contain' you at least for a night to maintain safety? If not, then what I have gotten myself into may be more difficult than I knew. I will travel with you long enough to think of a plan to deal with this problem - and then I hope we may rest."

(Hey, let it all out, lol, so long as you are enjoying writing I say let out your inner Plato)

“You know Asher Mir, right,” Sirius asked, his Vex-melded shell glimmering bronze, “he’s been helping us with this condition; he isn’t the most caring therapist, but his efforts keep us from succumbing sooner. If you ask me, we’re no more dangerous than he is.” The Arc still crackled on his brazen skin, but it had begun to settle down slightly.

“I am afraid I cannot be restrained in any way,” the Stormcaller sighed, “lest the power of storm and Vex clash to get free. In any case, I can hold myself back in case they try to enter my mind again; Thyrkeon will not have me for as long as I hold the Light in my body.”

A curious brow raised in reaction to the ghost's suggestion. Although the ghost may well be correct, it did not help her skepticism that she'd never seen Asher Mir so visibly alight with flashing strings of electricity and ice as Pyre-5 was before her. In truth, this guardian seemed so volatile. She was dismayed by the proclaimed inability to restrain himself and undoubtedly it would prove more dangerous but... she shrugged after a few beats of time, so it was. It could not be helped at the moment.

"On the bright side, I suppose you have to take double watch duty," she offered a rather pitiful grin before sobering herself, "though I offer one last warning that my trigger finger will be itchy and I'll clutch my defenses tightly as I sleep." She let the words soak the air before making any further motion to prepare for the coming night. As the air cooled, she searched briefly and soon located a suitable enough spot, for she had never been the picky sort. In a nearby indention upon the crater in which they stood, Crona-8 tucked her ghost and her hand cannon safely into the divot before laying atop them protectively. In the morning she would follow the stranger, halfway believing she must be insane to do so and halfway seeing the logic in the choice. Either way it was the rather laid-back decision she was often prone to pursue.

Though as she began to doze off, she could hear the hurried footsteps of what she assumed were scorn or fallen in the distance. They were far enough for now, and when they did approach, they would be her new companion's problem after all. It would be an interesting enough test to see what he could handle on his own - though she mentally prepared to help just in case.

He felt them coming; their thirst for bloodshed, the taint of darkness, an insatiable desire to reclaim what they had lost. He was prepared, of course, with both rifle raised and Arc energy coursing through his metallic veins. His eye made no movements, and neither did Sirius’, as they watched and waited for their foes to arrive if they chose so.

Pyre-5 wasn’t concerned about Corona-8; in fact, he was slightly relieved that one of Light had found him, tainted with the Vex’s cruel machinations. Now if only they could find his brother, perhaps bringing him back to the way of the Sky...