[spoiler]I previously created the character of Sylas in a short fanfic blurb that I posted [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/250203805?sort=0&page=0]here[/url] He is a work in progress but If you want to read about the first time he met the Deep it's there. [/spoiler] A Speaker in the Dark Part 1: plans, upon plans Sylas was accustomed to sleeping in alleys and doorways. When he could find a park bench, he could stave off the cold of the pavement and concrete with his ragged cloak made of filthy discarded rags, other nights he didn’t sleep at all. Some nights he was afraid to sleep; afraid of what the voice in the dark would tell him next. Anybody who beheld Sylas, didn’t do so for very long. His face was covered in wild brown and gray whiskers and the chin length hair on top of his head was matted with nots and filth. He wore an abandoned Hunters cloak of black and a yellowing tunic made of scorched cloth, patched together with bits of fabric and whatever he could find. He was a frantic sight; his eyes were insane and he would cast them about like knives in his sermons about the coming end. Though they often rebuked him, even some guardians would admit to each other (behind closed doors of course) the discomfort of meeting his gaze. Most of the time the Guardians and Tower denizens simply passed him over as he slept or preached, and avoided him in passing, but more often then not the drunken Kick of a 3rd shifter, or the rough handling of a mischievous Titan would startle him from his sleep. They would mock him and demand that he preach and tell them about darkness- as they’re laughter grew in a cruel crescendo. He would rise to the challenge each time, as the voice commanded him, and he spoke of terrible things; machines of war; monsters with oily black skin; the horrors that would be visited upon each of them. He told them “You are insignificant compared to the Power of Nothing, your pitiful light will be swallowed up in the full view of your precious Traveler, and it will do nothing as you are held fast by the deep to watch as your own flesh is made brittle by its power. You’re only hope is to follow me and worship the immeasurable darkness, there is no other way!-“ His words would fall upon deaf ears, as their laughter would reach a fever pitch “Follow you?!” they would say. “We’ll be sleeping in archways and making our clothes from rags in no time!” Perpetual fools. Tonight was a night that he was afraid to sleep; He had preached his maniacal black gospel for a year now, yet; nothing had changed. The guardians still danced about like fools in the Tower as if they were measuring their prowess against one another. The Traveler hung like the useless mechanical planetoid it was, and his Master had not yet arrived. In fact, the mysterious voice had not spoken to him since the first time; he feared and loved the voice in the darkness; it promised such wonderful power and such terrible reckoning. His Master was the Darkness and he would be its most trusted disciple, yet; perhaps he had angered the deep? What terror awaited those that did not rise to the expectations of the endless Nothing? He had preached, yes, but did It want more? Were actions what it wanted? His heart pounded as he sat slumped against the catwalk railing in the hangar, his heavy eye-lids struggled against the embrace of night as the Sun finally set behind the mountains that surround the Last City. What dreams would come to haunt him? Sylas awoke in a strange place; the Vale before him spread out into a great valley behind it and the mountains across from them rose like ancient cathedrals of earth to the heavens. A stunning blue sky was marred only by a few wispy clouds and the light of Sol high in the sky chased them with the gentle breeze across it. In the distance the Traveler floated above the city, Sylas wondered how he had come so far without remembering the Journey, but here he was. He pinched the corner of his face to check his wakefulness, Was he dreaming? Above him the blue seemed to deepen into cobalt, the light was fading as the sun slowly followed the suit of the sky. Sylas stared in wonder unafraid of harm as the light of Sol began to vanish, little by little, until it was nothing more than a pinpoint of light and was swallowed up. The light of the Traveler bristled at the descending dark, and it pushed with all of it’s light against the slowly descending deluge of black. The wall of night enveloped the traveler and seemed to pause as if savoring the meal, and then its ravenous hunger seemed to return and the formless mass of wretched matter lunged from the sky towards him. Sylas meant to run, but his feet had become tree roots holding him fast. The form of a wicked face emerged in fire and dark energy before melting to reveal the grotesque head of death. A scream barely escaped his lips before the deep devoured him whole and he was left in blind vexation. “You do well to fear, O speaker mine.” The voice had returned! Silas wept with joy, his face awash with insane fervor. “O master I have to hear you! I have shouted your coming to the people of the Last city! I have given my heart to the Deep; I am your instrument! Give me the power to show them your might!” “You have done well to speak this message to the wretched denizens of this pitiful city, though their minds are made of stone their hearts are as faulted as the ones they slaughter. For your loyalty you are rewarded…” Silas who’s eyes might have been covered in pitch before were instantly clear and the world around him was no longer black. The darkness was everywhere but his sight could pierce the black vale making the world glow with dark power in his vision. “Thank you, master” he sobbed, and collapsed in prostration before the figure of his adoration. He could not bring his eyes to look upon the figure, it writhed and pulsated, somewhere between gas and liquid; formless and impossible. It’s eyes burned with a green fire that seared his gaze. “Your warnings have met ignorance, and the punishment for this ignorance will be wrought by you, oh speaker Mine.” “I will do whatever is commanded of me” he whimpered The Dark creature touched his head and he felt a cold slithering sensation in his spine. He saw visions of destruction and chaos, and the words of the Dark one rang violently in his mind like a cavernous cathedral of bells, as the task was set before him. The wisdom and knowledge of the Deep it seemed was far more vast than the people of the City new. In another flash he was standing before the bridge to the Tower landing zone. The Dark one was gone, and the last light of the city was setting behind the mountains that surround the last City. Sylas gazed in a stupor around the deserted courtyard. Had it been a dream? Had he walked here in his sleep? He felt a chill in his spine and suddenly the voice in the dark spoke in his waking world. “I will speak, and you will translate the words for their primitive ears. And I will make you the harbinger of the end. You will work my will from the shadows, and through me you will rival even the Traveler’s undead puppets, but first you must bring them to fear.” Sylas was frightened by this development “But Master, what if I am discovered?” “I will cloak you in night, and you will be free from their gaze” With sudden clarity Sylas walked to the vacant postmasters booth and slid over the desk, as if guided by the Dark one, he reached for the package between two engrams and opened it, inside was a detonator, and three shaped charges of high-explosives. “You’re first task is nearly complete, now do what is right” A warmth grew inside Sylas, he had found it; his purpose. The path before him was clear, and unspoiled. His position was that of true prophet, he would bring fear to the tower, to the guardians. He would show them that nowhere was safe, and the they would all drown in the deep. He removed the shaped charges and stowed two of them in a fold of his tunic. His task was simple and set before him like a banquet to consume. His sermons would no longer be mocked; his steps would be venerated. In a trance he crawled over the postmasters counter and turned to the glimmering banners of Eververse Trading Company. He approached the counter holding the charge and detonator; He had always searched for purpose vainly as one of the unchosen, but in the soft glow of his dark sight, he could see it clearly… [spoiler]Thanks for reading guys, I like feedback on my writing, even if it's just technical criticism, I can take it. I'm not the perfect typist or writer, but I love all of the Darkness lore, and I am obsessed with learning the secrets of the Deep[/spoiler]