It's a bit early to be saying that isn't it?
Given that it seems that the Hive have just started awakening, more or less, I don't think Oryx and Siva have happened yet.
Bad Juju is the best exotic.
Each Star is a Point of Light-A Destiny/Mass Effect Fusion
- Thread starter MagicMan333
- Start date
It's a bit early to be saying that isn't it?
Given that it seems that the Hive have just started awakening, more or less, I don't think Oryx and Siva have happened yet.
Bad Juju is the best exotic.
- Location
- California
It says in the interlude that Oryx is dead.
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
This is a really nice interpretation of the Hive's philosophy, abilities and limitations. It works really well indeed.
Whoops. My bad.
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
Give Wrex the 4th Horseman. It calls to him.
And why give Garrus the Ice Breaker??
Give him Patience and Time.
And why give Garrus the Ice Breaker??
Give him Patience and Time.
I wonder if anyone gets Thorn. That gun has lot of bad history.
And why are people focusing just on GUNS? The talking suits of Armor are just as hilarious. Such as the STELLAR IMPACT series. Or the Hunter helmet infested with thought-eating symbiote
Edit: And of course Touch of Malice is possible...though I imagine someone might ask pointed questions from Eris on WHY SHE IS BUILDING ORYX A SOUL JAR
And why are people focusing just on GUNS? The talking suits of Armor are just as hilarious. Such as the STELLAR IMPACT series. Or the Hunter helmet infested with thought-eating symbiote
Edit: And of course Touch of Malice is possible...though I imagine someone might ask pointed questions from Eris on WHY SHE IS BUILDING ORYX A SOUL JAR
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I wonder if anyone gets Thorn. That gun has lot of bad history.
And why are people focusing just on GUNS? The talking suits of Armor are just as hilarious. Such as the STELLAR IMPACT series. Or the Hunter helmet infested with thought-eating symbiote
Edit: And of course Touch of Malice is possible...though I imagine someone might ask pointed questions from Eris on WHY SHE IS BUILDING ORYX A SOUL JAR
Odds are Liara has the Thorn, Necrochasm and the Touch of Malice. The guns are tucked away in a locked glass case with a wooden sign in front of it with just one word: DON'T
She uses that to beat people that mildly annoy her over the head. If they aggravate her regarding the Weapons of Sorrow she has Wrex beat them over the head with the sign.
And if they really piss her off, she calls in Tali, gives her the sign and say they agree with Osiris that the Vex are awesome. To this day Cayde-6 refuses to be alone in a room with Liara for that very reason.
Interlude 2: The Eyes of Strangers Pt 2
MagicMan333
Post-apocalyptic Gonzo Journalist
- Location
- Washington
Interlude 2: The Eyes of Strangers Pt 2
Noralvi followed Liara to the tunnel where Tali'Zorah had made the ultimate sacrifice. Noralvi felt sad for the brave girl who had sacrificed herself to stop the Hive from breaking into the bunker but most of her attention was taken up watching T'Soni. There didn't seem to be any grief in her demeanor or even any worry. Noralvi's first thought was that T'soni was in denial but there were darker interpretations supplied by the part of her mind that couldn't help but think of the semi-crazed look that made its home in T'Soni's eyes.
"Dr. T'Soni" she said, "I don't really know much about the relationship between you and Ms…"
"Tali's fine," she said, "I need to check the tunnel. There had to be a reason that they attacked there and not anywhere else."
Noralvi stared at T'Soni's back as they arrived at the large hall that led out into the tunnel network. Workers and soldiers were scattered throughout the room and the air echoed with whispers and chatter. A group of quarians were arguing with an asari engineer.
"Why did you leave her out there?" The asari yelled, "She…"
"We did what we had to do," A large quarian male said, "Those monsters would have slaughtered us all if they'd gotten inside. Tali'Zorah knew the risk."
A quarian woman beside him nodded, "She did her duty. She will be resting with the ancestors now."
The engineer glared at them before her eyes drifted in the direction Liara and Noralvi had come. She blanched and saluted.
"Huntress Lorev. Dr. T'Soni. Ve'Rasa Artiz reporting."
"Situation?" Noralvi asked.
"The Hive attacked while we were in the middle of refits," Artiz said. "Zorah said she'd hold them off while we finished." She glared at the quarians, "Then these cowards shut the door before she got back."
"Vuf'Xeram nar Rodarum," the quarian said, "and Tali'Zorah told us to close the door behind her," he glared at Artiz "showing great wisdom that we heeded."
"I-"
"I would suggest the two of you shut your mouths before we tie you two together and force you to make nice." Everyone turned their heads and were shocked to see Liara's floating drone glaring at them. "Unless," it continued, "that is your objective. I've always found asari mating practices to be a bit confusing."
"What?"
"Well I ne…"
"Well," the drone said, "nothing to be done then. Grab the rope. Tie them front to front. Quicker they get this done the better."
"Ssshhhh…" T'Soni said. She had stepped forward to the door and placed her hand on it. Her eyes were closed. After a moment she opened them and knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern that Noralvi didn't recognize. She felt her heart jump when there were two loud clangs on the other side. T'Soni responded with another set of knocks, similar to the first, which were answered by three knocks. This continued on for another set before Liara jumped back slightly, held her hands above her head, and shouted, "YOU DO!" at the top of her lungs. She turned her head to the workers.
"It's her. Open the door."
"That's impossible," Xeram said. "No one could have…"
T'Soni glared at him, "It's her. Open the door."
Xeram nodded and soon the door was screeching open. Tali ran inside.
"Get everybody out of the room and close the next set of doors behind you." She said.
Noralvi balked, "What are you…"
She trailed off as she saw what looked like a mix of shadow and ink flow across the floor into the center of the room.
Tali screamed, "Run now!"
The workers began to do so with the exception of Noralvi, who had grabbed her side arm, and Artiz who had leapt behind at turret. Liara slammed the button that began to closing sequence to the door and resulting noise sounded like something akin to a death knell. To Noralvi's horror. The shadows began to congeal into a large shape that began to float above the ground. The shape refined itself until it became a large Hive creature donned in heavy sickly-grey robes marked with various black symbols and patterns. It floated above the ground and its claws were covered in gauntlets that glowed a dark-purple.
"Thizna," T'Soni said with a snarl, "Princess of Witches. Youngest daughter of Savathun."
The only answer the creature gave was a guttural shrieking laugh.
***
The scene was supposed to be a bit longer but I decided to save the villainous monologue for next time. Anyway, that's the last main story update for two months. I'll probably have the first omake done by next week and I'll start working on my new project (and yes @Parselmaster I will drop a link). I'll also drop a link when I post the second draft on AO3 and fanfiction.net. I'll also probably be seaching for a beta in the meantime so look out for that. See you guys later.
Noralvi followed Liara to the tunnel where Tali'Zorah had made the ultimate sacrifice. Noralvi felt sad for the brave girl who had sacrificed herself to stop the Hive from breaking into the bunker but most of her attention was taken up watching T'Soni. There didn't seem to be any grief in her demeanor or even any worry. Noralvi's first thought was that T'soni was in denial but there were darker interpretations supplied by the part of her mind that couldn't help but think of the semi-crazed look that made its home in T'Soni's eyes.
"Dr. T'Soni" she said, "I don't really know much about the relationship between you and Ms…"
"Tali's fine," she said, "I need to check the tunnel. There had to be a reason that they attacked there and not anywhere else."
Noralvi stared at T'Soni's back as they arrived at the large hall that led out into the tunnel network. Workers and soldiers were scattered throughout the room and the air echoed with whispers and chatter. A group of quarians were arguing with an asari engineer.
"Why did you leave her out there?" The asari yelled, "She…"
"We did what we had to do," A large quarian male said, "Those monsters would have slaughtered us all if they'd gotten inside. Tali'Zorah knew the risk."
A quarian woman beside him nodded, "She did her duty. She will be resting with the ancestors now."
The engineer glared at them before her eyes drifted in the direction Liara and Noralvi had come. She blanched and saluted.
"Huntress Lorev. Dr. T'Soni. Ve'Rasa Artiz reporting."
"Situation?" Noralvi asked.
"The Hive attacked while we were in the middle of refits," Artiz said. "Zorah said she'd hold them off while we finished." She glared at the quarians, "Then these cowards shut the door before she got back."
"Vuf'Xeram nar Rodarum," the quarian said, "and Tali'Zorah told us to close the door behind her," he glared at Artiz "showing great wisdom that we heeded."
"I-"
"I would suggest the two of you shut your mouths before we tie you two together and force you to make nice." Everyone turned their heads and were shocked to see Liara's floating drone glaring at them. "Unless," it continued, "that is your objective. I've always found asari mating practices to be a bit confusing."
"What?"
"Well I ne…"
"Well," the drone said, "nothing to be done then. Grab the rope. Tie them front to front. Quicker they get this done the better."
"Ssshhhh…" T'Soni said. She had stepped forward to the door and placed her hand on it. Her eyes were closed. After a moment she opened them and knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern that Noralvi didn't recognize. She felt her heart jump when there were two loud clangs on the other side. T'Soni responded with another set of knocks, similar to the first, which were answered by three knocks. This continued on for another set before Liara jumped back slightly, held her hands above her head, and shouted, "YOU DO!" at the top of her lungs. She turned her head to the workers.
"It's her. Open the door."
"That's impossible," Xeram said. "No one could have…"
T'Soni glared at him, "It's her. Open the door."
Xeram nodded and soon the door was screeching open. Tali ran inside.
"Get everybody out of the room and close the next set of doors behind you." She said.
Noralvi balked, "What are you…"
She trailed off as she saw what looked like a mix of shadow and ink flow across the floor into the center of the room.
Tali screamed, "Run now!"
The workers began to do so with the exception of Noralvi, who had grabbed her side arm, and Artiz who had leapt behind at turret. Liara slammed the button that began to closing sequence to the door and resulting noise sounded like something akin to a death knell. To Noralvi's horror. The shadows began to congeal into a large shape that began to float above the ground. The shape refined itself until it became a large Hive creature donned in heavy sickly-grey robes marked with various black symbols and patterns. It floated above the ground and its claws were covered in gauntlets that glowed a dark-purple.
"Thizna," T'Soni said with a snarl, "Princess of Witches. Youngest daughter of Savathun."
The only answer the creature gave was a guttural shrieking laugh.
***
The scene was supposed to be a bit longer but I decided to save the villainous monologue for next time. Anyway, that's the last main story update for two months. I'll probably have the first omake done by next week and I'll start working on my new project (and yes @Parselmaster I will drop a link). I'll also drop a link when I post the second draft on AO3 and fanfiction.net. I'll also probably be seaching for a beta in the meantime so look out for that. See you guys later.
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- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
The legend of David Bowie will never die!
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
Wait...
So Tali was trapped inside there, with one of the witches, and was fighting her off with the power of rock, via David Bowie?
Yeah, I know its not metal, but...fuck it, it deserves it.
\m/
So Tali was trapped inside there, with one of the witches, and was fighting her off with the power of rock, via David Bowie?
Yeah, I know its not metal, but...fuck it, it deserves it.
\m/
Lone Courier 6
Devilish Fool
- Location
- United States of Quests
And I just binged through the story, hoping Garrus gets the khostov exotic.
Omake-Canon- I Shall Report All of the Things I See Though I Know I Will Not Be Believed
MagicMan333
Post-apocalyptic Gonzo Journalist
- Location
- Washington
Omake-Canon- I Shall Report All of the Things I See Though I Know I Will Not Be Believed
Lohorn Tizen held his face in his hands for several minutes before he took in the disaster area around him. This was supposed to be simple but leave it to the humans and their ilk to make even this simple thing into a trial that he was sure nobody else had to deal with. He scanned the room, taking in the veritable disaster area that he was working in. It was a large office looking out over what the human's called The Last City on Earth. Lohorn had been excited when he had first entered it. It had been clean, shiny, with plenty of room for him and the other two members of his team.
Now, it was covered from one end to another with datapads, books, and scrolls (scrolls!). So many that one had to be careful in navigating the large piles of material else they risk getting buried alive. Lohorn winced as he remembered having to dig Camelia out of one such collapse. His instructors on Sur'Kesh would have had his head for this. But he wasn't on Sur'Kesh. He was on Earth. The planet where sanity went to die. He ran his hand over his horn. This was supposed to be simple.
When he'd been told about the Grimoire he'd been even more excited than he'd been for the office. A tome like the Codex that they could plunge into. It should have made their work much easier. Then they'd actually read it. It was, like many other aspects of human society, a thing of complete chaos. For one thing, it was organized in a way that was beyond description, divided into multiple collections sorted into a hierarchal structure. The first level, the most important, was made up of source documents: first-hand accounts, recordings, important writings of famous scientists and philosophers, various works from mankind's mythical "Golden Age", and so on. Lohorn had actually found the idea rather inspired. But then he began reading the second level, which was made up of articles and other works discussing the contents of the first collection. It was utter madness. An informational hellscape of debate, research, and theorizing that always seemed to devolve into argument and half-baked ideas that no one could take seriously only to find that they had been written by some of the finest minds the City produced. The third levels were much the same except all pretense at accreditation and reputation slid away as anybody with a keyboard and an opinion could add their voice to the ongoing discussion. The fourth and fifth levels spiraled out from there. He sighed. It probably would have been simple for Areessa.
They'd met when he'd first joined the Foundation. He'd been a nervous stuttering eleven-year-old interning at one of the most important organizations in the galaxy and knew he was in over his head. Areessa had been the one to see that dumb pre-teen and take him under her wing as she had done numerous times with others throughout her six centuries. She'd been the one to recruit him into the expedition to ensure that anything important would be handed to the Foundation right away. She'd been one of the ones who hadn't been able to get to an escape pod in time to make it off the Long-Sight. Now it was just him and two semi-interns who'd come to see new planets and make coffee.
Lohorn took in the City beneath him. They were far from the dazzling lights of the Traveler Districts, where the human's god rested and where everything critical or otherwise valuable was kept, and from the numerous residential, agricultural, and industrial districts that defined the daily life of the City's citizenry. He felt a large three fingered hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, Lohorn," Cicena said, "me and Faldedra are heading back to our quarters for the night. You going to stay here?"
Lohorn nodded, "I need to finish this tonight if we want to keep schedule."
Cicena side glanced at his computer screen to see a blank white document.
"A-huh," she said, "That's totally happening tonight."
Lohorn waved her off, "Just go. I won't be able to get to sleep anyway."
Cicena looked like she was about to argue the point only to shake her head.
"Just don't stay up too late."
His assistant gone, Lohorn turned his attention back to the computer screen. His thoughts turned towards the rest of the crew. They were all given a collection of rooms in the Tower where the Vanguard was installed and set to work according to their skills. The Captain was declared ambassador to the Citadel with the unspoken implication that she would retain her authority over the crew of the Long-Sight. Sokir, Farla, and the remaining security officers, having seen active combat, were sent to help train and support the City's non-Guardian militia. No one was quite sure what Dr. Solus was doing besides working a few shifts a week in the Tower's clinic and he never gave a straight answer when you asked him.
Then there was the newly-named Fireteam Citadel. He huffed to himself. If he were honest with himself, it was probably their efforts that had gotten him access to the Grimoire at all. He wondered what they were doing now. Were they like some of the other crew? Drinking at the few bars that would serve aliens, going over paperwork, and otherwise trying to make a home out of this strange city where the average citizen feared feared them. Or were they out of the City entirely? Exploring the nooks and crannies of this brave new world they had stumbled upon where dead men rose to become heroes and monsters even worse than the Fallen were said to lurk in the dark corners of the system.
Lohorn sighed and sat back at his desk. Taking a deep breath, he placed his fingers on the keys. After staring at the screen for a few more seconds he finally set himself to write.
Codex: Non-Citadel Race: Human
****
Can't say I'm too satisfied with this omake. This will probably be one of the ones that'll get a major combing over when I make a second draft of it. On that front, the second draft is going semi-smoothly. I've reached the end of Book 1 and am beginning the second draft of Book 2. Within the next week I hope to begin writing my new fic and maybe a grimoire on everyone's favorite white and pink Titan.
Lohorn Tizen held his face in his hands for several minutes before he took in the disaster area around him. This was supposed to be simple but leave it to the humans and their ilk to make even this simple thing into a trial that he was sure nobody else had to deal with. He scanned the room, taking in the veritable disaster area that he was working in. It was a large office looking out over what the human's called The Last City on Earth. Lohorn had been excited when he had first entered it. It had been clean, shiny, with plenty of room for him and the other two members of his team.
Now, it was covered from one end to another with datapads, books, and scrolls (scrolls!). So many that one had to be careful in navigating the large piles of material else they risk getting buried alive. Lohorn winced as he remembered having to dig Camelia out of one such collapse. His instructors on Sur'Kesh would have had his head for this. But he wasn't on Sur'Kesh. He was on Earth. The planet where sanity went to die. He ran his hand over his horn. This was supposed to be simple.
When he'd been told about the Grimoire he'd been even more excited than he'd been for the office. A tome like the Codex that they could plunge into. It should have made their work much easier. Then they'd actually read it. It was, like many other aspects of human society, a thing of complete chaos. For one thing, it was organized in a way that was beyond description, divided into multiple collections sorted into a hierarchal structure. The first level, the most important, was made up of source documents: first-hand accounts, recordings, important writings of famous scientists and philosophers, various works from mankind's mythical "Golden Age", and so on. Lohorn had actually found the idea rather inspired. But then he began reading the second level, which was made up of articles and other works discussing the contents of the first collection. It was utter madness. An informational hellscape of debate, research, and theorizing that always seemed to devolve into argument and half-baked ideas that no one could take seriously only to find that they had been written by some of the finest minds the City produced. The third levels were much the same except all pretense at accreditation and reputation slid away as anybody with a keyboard and an opinion could add their voice to the ongoing discussion. The fourth and fifth levels spiraled out from there. He sighed. It probably would have been simple for Areessa.
They'd met when he'd first joined the Foundation. He'd been a nervous stuttering eleven-year-old interning at one of the most important organizations in the galaxy and knew he was in over his head. Areessa had been the one to see that dumb pre-teen and take him under her wing as she had done numerous times with others throughout her six centuries. She'd been the one to recruit him into the expedition to ensure that anything important would be handed to the Foundation right away. She'd been one of the ones who hadn't been able to get to an escape pod in time to make it off the Long-Sight. Now it was just him and two semi-interns who'd come to see new planets and make coffee.
Lohorn took in the City beneath him. They were far from the dazzling lights of the Traveler Districts, where the human's god rested and where everything critical or otherwise valuable was kept, and from the numerous residential, agricultural, and industrial districts that defined the daily life of the City's citizenry. He felt a large three fingered hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, Lohorn," Cicena said, "me and Faldedra are heading back to our quarters for the night. You going to stay here?"
Lohorn nodded, "I need to finish this tonight if we want to keep schedule."
Cicena side glanced at his computer screen to see a blank white document.
"A-huh," she said, "That's totally happening tonight."
Lohorn waved her off, "Just go. I won't be able to get to sleep anyway."
Cicena looked like she was about to argue the point only to shake her head.
"Just don't stay up too late."
His assistant gone, Lohorn turned his attention back to the computer screen. His thoughts turned towards the rest of the crew. They were all given a collection of rooms in the Tower where the Vanguard was installed and set to work according to their skills. The Captain was declared ambassador to the Citadel with the unspoken implication that she would retain her authority over the crew of the Long-Sight. Sokir, Farla, and the remaining security officers, having seen active combat, were sent to help train and support the City's non-Guardian militia. No one was quite sure what Dr. Solus was doing besides working a few shifts a week in the Tower's clinic and he never gave a straight answer when you asked him.
Then there was the newly-named Fireteam Citadel. He huffed to himself. If he were honest with himself, it was probably their efforts that had gotten him access to the Grimoire at all. He wondered what they were doing now. Were they like some of the other crew? Drinking at the few bars that would serve aliens, going over paperwork, and otherwise trying to make a home out of this strange city where the average citizen feared feared them. Or were they out of the City entirely? Exploring the nooks and crannies of this brave new world they had stumbled upon where dead men rose to become heroes and monsters even worse than the Fallen were said to lurk in the dark corners of the system.
Lohorn sighed and sat back at his desk. Taking a deep breath, he placed his fingers on the keys. After staring at the screen for a few more seconds he finally set himself to write.
Codex: Non-Citadel Race: Human
****
Can't say I'm too satisfied with this omake. This will probably be one of the ones that'll get a major combing over when I make a second draft of it. On that front, the second draft is going semi-smoothly. I've reached the end of Book 1 and am beginning the second draft of Book 2. Within the next week I hope to begin writing my new fic and maybe a grimoire on everyone's favorite white and pink Titan.
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- Location
- Gladstone, OR
That was an excellent meta-punchline.
Not to mention a nice dig at the scatter shot nature of the Grimore. I have a feeling that Lohorn will be the Citadel's equivalent of My Name is Byf by the time they make contact, if he doesn't wind up nuttier than a fruitcake at some of the 4th-degree paracausal fuckery that makes up the Destiny verse.
- Location
- Southern California
So it seems that each of our MC's have a race they specialized against.
Liara- The Hive (has studied the hive and has bad juju)
Garrus- The fallen (the mere fact that he has been such a pain in the ass for them just seems right to me)
Tali- The vex (As a quarian I expect her to naturally wanting to kill the real killer robots and the fact that she has super good advice)
Wrex- Cabal (I just can not help but see Wrex wanting to fight the empire that is what the Krogan dreamed of being)
Liara- The Hive (has studied the hive and has bad juju)
Garrus- The fallen (the mere fact that he has been such a pain in the ass for them just seems right to me)
Tali- The vex (As a quarian I expect her to naturally wanting to kill the real killer robots and the fact that she has super good advice)
Wrex- Cabal (I just can not help but see Wrex wanting to fight the empire that is what the Krogan dreamed of being)
MagicMan333
Post-apocalyptic Gonzo Journalist
- Location
- Washington
Okay, since people have shown an interest (mostly @Parselmaster ) in my new project, a crossover between Life is Strange and Changeling:the Lost, I am putting a link to it on this thread.
Here.
Anyway, I'm having some trouble writing Ashley's grimoire so I might put that on hold and make another Shepard one. The second draft goes well although I have fallen a bit behind due to work which I hope to fix this coming weekend. Anyway, I'll see ya'll later.
Here.
Anyway, I'm having some trouble writing Ashley's grimoire so I might put that on hold and make another Shepard one. The second draft goes well although I have fallen a bit behind due to work which I hope to fix this coming weekend. Anyway, I'll see ya'll later.
Grimoire: Shepard 2
MagicMan333
Post-apocalyptic Gonzo Journalist
- Location
- Washington
Grimoire: Shepard 2
*Clicking noise as recorder turns on followed by sound of something being poured into a glass.*
After the disaster in the Californian Wetlands, it took me three months to finally pick the trail back up. Finally found them in the ruins of an Old Austin suburb. I should have scouted them out. Figured out their patterns. But I was young. Nineteen and heady on my newly-awakened Light. You think I would have learned from California but…well the Tower's full of stories of dumb Guardians who get kicked beyond the veil cause they thought the Light would always save their asses.
Anderson, bless his heart, tried to temper my young stupidity but he had little luck. I loved the ol' Ghost, still do, but I was stubborn and he could do nothing but follow and pray to the Traveler that I didn't get both of us killed. So I stood at the gate of their camp. It was an ugly thing. A palisade of scavenged wood and warped metal surrounded it and I could see the skeletons of barracks and watchtowers inside, illuminated by the glow of a large campfire whose top I could see even above the 15 foot tall gate.
"SKYRLIN!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, more bravado than sense, "WE GOTS SOME UNFINISHED BUSINESS!"
So there I was, playing it like a Guardian from the stories. Standing proud and ready for either a 1-on-1 showdown or a straight up firefight. Here's the thing about a lot of the stories. A lot of the details are bullshit.
Instead of Skyrlin and his boys coming out and fighting me, a high-velocity sniper round damn near tore my leg in half. The pain and the shock were so much that my sight went white for a few moments as I rolled on the ground.
Hint to the Kinderguardians reading this: Get some pain resistance training as soon as you can. What we get from the Light is not nearly enough to do our jobs.
Pain ripped through my shoulder just as the white faded from my eyes and I realized that some fucker had kicked me onto my back. I raised my head a little as I felt a great weight on my chest.
It was Skyrlin's foot.
"Well," he said in that deep voice that Fallen high-ups tend to have, "looks like someone didn't learn their lesson in the floodlands."
I groaned and gritted my teeth as the asshole stomped on my chest, breaking a few of my ribs. He was a big fucker. And the weight of his black armor hadn't helped. I felt blood in my mouth, I must've bitten my tongue. He laid the barrel of his shrapnel launcher on my forehead.
"You Light-Stealers. Believe so much in your so called immortality. Think you cannot be killed." He chuckled, "I kill no less than three at Twilight Gap and two little ones out here. Little ones like you. Only reason I didn't finish you in Cal-eh-foe-naya was that it was tiresome to dredge the waters for your corpse." His chuckle grew into hysterical laughter, "But here you are. You must have wanted to die badly."
I winced remembering the despair I felt laying among the corpses on my birthday three years before. I'd thought I'd found new strength in being a Guardian but there I was. About to die the last time at the hands a Fallen raider in the middle of the desert.
"I'm sorry everyone," I whispered through my tears.
That was when I heard six handcannon rounds rip through the air one right after the other. I felt the weight leave my chest as Skyrlin shifted away. I tried to grab my shotgun and stand up but my leg had only begun to heal and my still-growing Light could only do so much to repair the damage quickly. I was only barely able to get on my good knee when I noticed that the gunfire had stopped. I looked around and realized that I was surrounded by six Fallen corpses, two Vandal and four dregs.
I heard footsteps, human footsteps, and I turned my attention to the man I assumed to be my rescuer. He wore a suit and a mask much like mine but instead of the threadbare grey cloak I wore he instead wore a long duster and a hat like the ones in old cowboy vids. In his hand was a gold and steel handcannon with golden engravings in its sides. He looked down at where I kneeled and said the words that would change my life forever.
"Kid," he said, "You are a goddamed idiot."
And that's how I met Shin Malphur.
-----
Here you guys go. It's a quick and dirty one, meant more to bridge the two parts of Shepard's origin story together than be by itself. I mostly wrote it so I could both get on with Shepard's story and start writing the next crew-based omake, one I've been looking forward to, based on everyone's favorite singing and dancing Salarian scientist. So I'll see y'all when that's posted.
*Clicking noise as recorder turns on followed by sound of something being poured into a glass.*
After the disaster in the Californian Wetlands, it took me three months to finally pick the trail back up. Finally found them in the ruins of an Old Austin suburb. I should have scouted them out. Figured out their patterns. But I was young. Nineteen and heady on my newly-awakened Light. You think I would have learned from California but…well the Tower's full of stories of dumb Guardians who get kicked beyond the veil cause they thought the Light would always save their asses.
Anderson, bless his heart, tried to temper my young stupidity but he had little luck. I loved the ol' Ghost, still do, but I was stubborn and he could do nothing but follow and pray to the Traveler that I didn't get both of us killed. So I stood at the gate of their camp. It was an ugly thing. A palisade of scavenged wood and warped metal surrounded it and I could see the skeletons of barracks and watchtowers inside, illuminated by the glow of a large campfire whose top I could see even above the 15 foot tall gate.
"SKYRLIN!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, more bravado than sense, "WE GOTS SOME UNFINISHED BUSINESS!"
So there I was, playing it like a Guardian from the stories. Standing proud and ready for either a 1-on-1 showdown or a straight up firefight. Here's the thing about a lot of the stories. A lot of the details are bullshit.
Instead of Skyrlin and his boys coming out and fighting me, a high-velocity sniper round damn near tore my leg in half. The pain and the shock were so much that my sight went white for a few moments as I rolled on the ground.
Hint to the Kinderguardians reading this: Get some pain resistance training as soon as you can. What we get from the Light is not nearly enough to do our jobs.
Pain ripped through my shoulder just as the white faded from my eyes and I realized that some fucker had kicked me onto my back. I raised my head a little as I felt a great weight on my chest.
It was Skyrlin's foot.
"Well," he said in that deep voice that Fallen high-ups tend to have, "looks like someone didn't learn their lesson in the floodlands."
I groaned and gritted my teeth as the asshole stomped on my chest, breaking a few of my ribs. He was a big fucker. And the weight of his black armor hadn't helped. I felt blood in my mouth, I must've bitten my tongue. He laid the barrel of his shrapnel launcher on my forehead.
"You Light-Stealers. Believe so much in your so called immortality. Think you cannot be killed." He chuckled, "I kill no less than three at Twilight Gap and two little ones out here. Little ones like you. Only reason I didn't finish you in Cal-eh-foe-naya was that it was tiresome to dredge the waters for your corpse." His chuckle grew into hysterical laughter, "But here you are. You must have wanted to die badly."
I winced remembering the despair I felt laying among the corpses on my birthday three years before. I'd thought I'd found new strength in being a Guardian but there I was. About to die the last time at the hands a Fallen raider in the middle of the desert.
"I'm sorry everyone," I whispered through my tears.
That was when I heard six handcannon rounds rip through the air one right after the other. I felt the weight leave my chest as Skyrlin shifted away. I tried to grab my shotgun and stand up but my leg had only begun to heal and my still-growing Light could only do so much to repair the damage quickly. I was only barely able to get on my good knee when I noticed that the gunfire had stopped. I looked around and realized that I was surrounded by six Fallen corpses, two Vandal and four dregs.
I heard footsteps, human footsteps, and I turned my attention to the man I assumed to be my rescuer. He wore a suit and a mask much like mine but instead of the threadbare grey cloak I wore he instead wore a long duster and a hat like the ones in old cowboy vids. In his hand was a gold and steel handcannon with golden engravings in its sides. He looked down at where I kneeled and said the words that would change my life forever.
"Kid," he said, "You are a goddamed idiot."
And that's how I met Shin Malphur.
-----
Here you guys go. It's a quick and dirty one, meant more to bridge the two parts of Shepard's origin story together than be by itself. I mostly wrote it so I could both get on with Shepard's story and start writing the next crew-based omake, one I've been looking forward to, based on everyone's favorite singing and dancing Salarian scientist. So I'll see y'all when that's posted.
Strunkriidiisk
THE LEGEND
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Ha! A Hunter who recognizes the superiority of Warlock fashion!
Omake- Canon- Among Warlocks and Owls
MagicMan333
Post-apocalyptic Gonzo Journalist
- Location
- Washington
Omake: Among Owls and Warlocks
Mordin Solus walked into office. Large. Walls covered in bookshelves. Every type of media imaginable from books to holo tapes. Expected for City's head of research. Ikora Rey looked up from report. Not in gear today. Instead wore black short sleeve shirt. Yellow bandana around neck. Long maroon colored skirt reached down to ankles.
"Ah, Dr. Solus, you're right on time."
Nodded. Members of crew asked to meet Vanguard and rest of High Council. Find work for members. Some militia trainers. Some helped City researchers understand mass effect. Some farmed.
No meeting for him it seemed. Called straight into Ikora's office.
"Surprised by message," he said, "thought whole crew would be processed by Council?"
"Yes," Ikora said before eyes returned to report, "in the face of your considerable resume, I convinced the others to…"
"What do you want?" Mordin said. Best to cut through and get to bottom of this. Ikora returned eyes to him. She smiled. Remained silent. Waiting for something. "Obviously want me for something specific. No High Council. Poached me. Must have offered deal. Personal meeting in exchange for something else. Probably intelligence from Hidden." Ikora's eyebrows shot up but smile remained. "Heard rumors. 'Ikora Rey knows everything'. Thought it due to R&D work. But no. Undercurrent of fear, no, paranoia, to whispers. Listened more. Actionable Intelligence. Late-night meetings with no one. Too knowledgeable about fireteam activity. Kept listening. One word kept appearing." Mordin took small breath.
"Hidden."
Sparkle appeared in Ikora's eye.
"You are everything I hoped you would be." Stood up from desk. Beckoned. "Come with me, Dr. Solus. I'd like to show you something."
Passed by Mordin and walked out door. Stared at back before following.
-----
Long moments passed. Ikora navigated winding labyrinth of Tower halls. Guardians and Tower workers passed by. Most gave Ikora wide birth. Some, mostly Warlocks, gave her respectful nods.
"What do you think of our technology, Dr. Solus?"
Mordin blinked. Parsed question.
"Interesting," he answered, "Much of it primitive. Pre-spaceflight bootstrapped to machinery with ability to deny natural laws. Very…unfocused."
Ikora chuckled, "And Golden Age technology?"
"Like nothing seen in Citadel Space." A pause. "Want my expertise."
"In a way," she answered, "I was pleasantly surprised when I saw your resume…"
Eyes widen.
"STG work…"
Ikora raised hands.
"Nothing confidential. Just that you were a member."
"Should know that STG recruits researchers."
"Yes," Ikora said with smile, "but I've been watching you Dr. Solus. Ordinary doctors don't look behind their shoulders quite as often as you do. Scientists tend not to be as good with a pistol as you are"
"Lived in most crime-ridden station in galaxy."
Ikora laughed.
"We can talk circles around each other forever, Dr. Solus. I don't need you to confirm it. I just want to," paused before continuing, "make an offer."
Both reached elevator. Ikora pressed button before entering code into keypad. Fingers moved too quickly to discern numbers pressed. Elevator rises.
"The Golden Age was a time of wonders." Ikora said. Kept silent. Knew pitch when heard one. "What you see now is a shadow of the achievements of our ancestors." Held out hand. Glowing cubes, glimmer, in palm. "This is the cornerstone of our economy. And it is nothing but a toy compared to what they wrought." The cubes vanished. "It is my responsibility as Warlock Vanguard to try to recreate those achievements. To try and reforge the Golden Age within these walls."
"But."
Ikora smiled again.
"But," she said, "what we find can be incredibly dangerous to the general population. We haven't just lost manufacturing capabilities or scientific theorems. We've lost the knowledge of how to use what we find. Safety procedures." Gave him long look. "A lot of the time we can't find a damn off switch."
"Assume there is organization in place."
"You would be correct, Dr. Solus." She said as door opened.
Large room. Shined like new. Floor well swept. Bookshelves arranged and organized neatly. Tables covered in notes and blueprints. At end, instead of wall, large window looked out over City. Spiral staircase led to smaller second floor viewable from present location. Second floor held plants, couches, small table, row of computer desks, and small observatory telescope.
"Ikora!" voice said.
Human. Chinese, possibly. Was only getting grasp of human races. Wore lab coat much like own. Black hair combed backwards. Grey specks and wrinkles around eyes betrayed age. Mid-100s.
"Shun, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Mordin Solus. Dr. Solus, this is Dr. Shun Li."
Gave quick nod.
"Dr. Mordin Solus. Have researched. Doctor by trade."
Dr. Li smiled.
"Down to business I see. How much has Ikora told you?" Relayed Ikora's pitch. Dr. Li laughed. "Good to see that you haven't loss your penchant for the dramatic, Kory."
Nickname. Hmmm. Ikora frowned.
"I am not dramatic."
"You're as dramatic as Cayde is."
Ikora glared at him.
"I can hurt you."
Dr. Li smiled wider.
"Anyway, Ikora's correct. A lot of the technology that's recovered or scouted out in the Wilds is incredibly dangerous. That's why we're here."
"Research?"
"And containment when necessary. And it is necessary a lot."
"My STG experience?"
"There are times," Ikora said, "that Guardian methods are considered too…indelicate for the work we do here."
Remember seeing Guardians in Tower Square perform religious rituals with rocket launchers. Nod in agreement.
"Right," Dr. Li said, "part of what we do here involves stealth operations to safely retrieve fragile assets deemed too important to risk."
"Your experience?"
"I was a member of a militia special ops team back when I was younger. Never saw any action before I came here though."
Ikora nodded.
"It was Shun's experience working alongside Guardians along with his research that brought him to our attention. I assure you, Dr. Solus, only the best are welcomed here."
Stood silent. Stared at her. Deep in thought.
"If," she continued, "you are worried about your medical practice, don't be. While much of what we do is important it doesn't tend to be time sensitive."
"Except for emergencies." Dr. Li added.
"Except for emergencies," Ikora agreed, "you can easily divide your time between the clinic and here." Another pause and she continued, "Please Dr. Solus. I honestly believe that the good you could do here could prove invaluable for the people of this City."
Stared. Thought. Thought long. Thought hard. Expected offensive organization. Found this. Not sword of shadows but shield of enlightenment. Held out hand to Dr. Li. Took it in his own. Smiled.
"Welcome to OWL Sector, Dr. Solus."
***
Hello, all. This is probably the last omake you'll see for a couple of weeks until I either get Ashley's of the ground or I start one for Edi or Kaidan. I want to focus the next two weeks on the second draft and my new story. So I'll leave this one here. See you guys later.
Mordin Solus walked into office. Large. Walls covered in bookshelves. Every type of media imaginable from books to holo tapes. Expected for City's head of research. Ikora Rey looked up from report. Not in gear today. Instead wore black short sleeve shirt. Yellow bandana around neck. Long maroon colored skirt reached down to ankles.
"Ah, Dr. Solus, you're right on time."
Nodded. Members of crew asked to meet Vanguard and rest of High Council. Find work for members. Some militia trainers. Some helped City researchers understand mass effect. Some farmed.
No meeting for him it seemed. Called straight into Ikora's office.
"Surprised by message," he said, "thought whole crew would be processed by Council?"
"Yes," Ikora said before eyes returned to report, "in the face of your considerable resume, I convinced the others to…"
"What do you want?" Mordin said. Best to cut through and get to bottom of this. Ikora returned eyes to him. She smiled. Remained silent. Waiting for something. "Obviously want me for something specific. No High Council. Poached me. Must have offered deal. Personal meeting in exchange for something else. Probably intelligence from Hidden." Ikora's eyebrows shot up but smile remained. "Heard rumors. 'Ikora Rey knows everything'. Thought it due to R&D work. But no. Undercurrent of fear, no, paranoia, to whispers. Listened more. Actionable Intelligence. Late-night meetings with no one. Too knowledgeable about fireteam activity. Kept listening. One word kept appearing." Mordin took small breath.
"Hidden."
Sparkle appeared in Ikora's eye.
"You are everything I hoped you would be." Stood up from desk. Beckoned. "Come with me, Dr. Solus. I'd like to show you something."
Passed by Mordin and walked out door. Stared at back before following.
-----
Long moments passed. Ikora navigated winding labyrinth of Tower halls. Guardians and Tower workers passed by. Most gave Ikora wide birth. Some, mostly Warlocks, gave her respectful nods.
"What do you think of our technology, Dr. Solus?"
Mordin blinked. Parsed question.
"Interesting," he answered, "Much of it primitive. Pre-spaceflight bootstrapped to machinery with ability to deny natural laws. Very…unfocused."
Ikora chuckled, "And Golden Age technology?"
"Like nothing seen in Citadel Space." A pause. "Want my expertise."
"In a way," she answered, "I was pleasantly surprised when I saw your resume…"
Eyes widen.
"STG work…"
Ikora raised hands.
"Nothing confidential. Just that you were a member."
"Should know that STG recruits researchers."
"Yes," Ikora said with smile, "but I've been watching you Dr. Solus. Ordinary doctors don't look behind their shoulders quite as often as you do. Scientists tend not to be as good with a pistol as you are"
"Lived in most crime-ridden station in galaxy."
Ikora laughed.
"We can talk circles around each other forever, Dr. Solus. I don't need you to confirm it. I just want to," paused before continuing, "make an offer."
Both reached elevator. Ikora pressed button before entering code into keypad. Fingers moved too quickly to discern numbers pressed. Elevator rises.
"The Golden Age was a time of wonders." Ikora said. Kept silent. Knew pitch when heard one. "What you see now is a shadow of the achievements of our ancestors." Held out hand. Glowing cubes, glimmer, in palm. "This is the cornerstone of our economy. And it is nothing but a toy compared to what they wrought." The cubes vanished. "It is my responsibility as Warlock Vanguard to try to recreate those achievements. To try and reforge the Golden Age within these walls."
"But."
Ikora smiled again.
"But," she said, "what we find can be incredibly dangerous to the general population. We haven't just lost manufacturing capabilities or scientific theorems. We've lost the knowledge of how to use what we find. Safety procedures." Gave him long look. "A lot of the time we can't find a damn off switch."
"Assume there is organization in place."
"You would be correct, Dr. Solus." She said as door opened.
Large room. Shined like new. Floor well swept. Bookshelves arranged and organized neatly. Tables covered in notes and blueprints. At end, instead of wall, large window looked out over City. Spiral staircase led to smaller second floor viewable from present location. Second floor held plants, couches, small table, row of computer desks, and small observatory telescope.
"Ikora!" voice said.
Human. Chinese, possibly. Was only getting grasp of human races. Wore lab coat much like own. Black hair combed backwards. Grey specks and wrinkles around eyes betrayed age. Mid-100s.
"Shun, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Mordin Solus. Dr. Solus, this is Dr. Shun Li."
Gave quick nod.
"Dr. Mordin Solus. Have researched. Doctor by trade."
Dr. Li smiled.
"Down to business I see. How much has Ikora told you?" Relayed Ikora's pitch. Dr. Li laughed. "Good to see that you haven't loss your penchant for the dramatic, Kory."
Nickname. Hmmm. Ikora frowned.
"I am not dramatic."
"You're as dramatic as Cayde is."
Ikora glared at him.
"I can hurt you."
Dr. Li smiled wider.
"Anyway, Ikora's correct. A lot of the technology that's recovered or scouted out in the Wilds is incredibly dangerous. That's why we're here."
"Research?"
"And containment when necessary. And it is necessary a lot."
"My STG experience?"
"There are times," Ikora said, "that Guardian methods are considered too…indelicate for the work we do here."
Remember seeing Guardians in Tower Square perform religious rituals with rocket launchers. Nod in agreement.
"Right," Dr. Li said, "part of what we do here involves stealth operations to safely retrieve fragile assets deemed too important to risk."
"Your experience?"
"I was a member of a militia special ops team back when I was younger. Never saw any action before I came here though."
Ikora nodded.
"It was Shun's experience working alongside Guardians along with his research that brought him to our attention. I assure you, Dr. Solus, only the best are welcomed here."
Stood silent. Stared at her. Deep in thought.
"If," she continued, "you are worried about your medical practice, don't be. While much of what we do is important it doesn't tend to be time sensitive."
"Except for emergencies." Dr. Li added.
"Except for emergencies," Ikora agreed, "you can easily divide your time between the clinic and here." Another pause and she continued, "Please Dr. Solus. I honestly believe that the good you could do here could prove invaluable for the people of this City."
Stared. Thought. Thought long. Thought hard. Expected offensive organization. Found this. Not sword of shadows but shield of enlightenment. Held out hand to Dr. Li. Took it in his own. Smiled.
"Welcome to OWL Sector, Dr. Solus."
***
Hello, all. This is probably the last omake you'll see for a couple of weeks until I either get Ashley's of the ground or I start one for Edi or Kaidan. I want to focus the next two weeks on the second draft and my new story. So I'll leave this one here. See you guys later.
Zanji117
Blood Wolf
- Location
- Bakersfield, CA
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Do we really want to know what this was about?
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Guardians LOVE their Gjallahorns.
Tiypo
Forever Phone Posting
While the G-horn is better undoubtedly better, I personally like Truth more, tis a silly weapon.
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- She/Her
But sarcasm aside, Bungie took a few of the habits of players in-game, and made references to them in the in-universe lore. One habit, namely firing off dance emotes and rocket launchers after the end of a strike (Because they wouldn't give us actual chat options for so god damn long), was noticed by the Cabal scout legions. Lacking a lot of the context, they came to the conclusion that it was some sort of religious ceremony. The fact the Best Rocket Launcher is wonderfully decorated probably helped that assumption too.