Part one: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/202197624/0/0 [i]Hull Breach, Dreadnaught[/i] Bracus Ma'aurg was the worst thing a cabal could be. A traitor. A coward, selling his soul to the enemy. He didn't care. The Empire was far away, and couldn't do anything to stop him. His soldiers all understood the operation as gathering data for the bases on the ice moon the Flayers had come to call Vani. They didn't ask any questions, and both of the legion's Valus's were dead, so he didn't report to anyone. The Guardians he met with weren't like others, though. They lacked [Dead Person]s and didn't hurt so much to look at. They gave him [Valuable Glow] as compensation, and promised him a ride off the Dreadnaught if things got tough. He led his crew of soldiers, troops he had come to respect in their time on this tombship, to a small fracture in the Dreadnaught's hull. Each one hauling a load of Hadium. The harvester landed, and the legionaries loaded up the cargo ports. The bracus would be payed a few hours later. They were honorable, surprisingly. As the ship lifted off, Ma'aurg heard a noise: the sound of spinning up torpedoes, it sounded the same on cabal warships or guardian fighters. The harvester was shot down, it's engine exploding and showering the group in fire and metal. "Hold your ground! Phalanxes, Formation 3! We're making a tactical fallback!" Two guardians materialized: one in a hood with a long cape flowing behind him, another with the robes of a scholar. Both had [Dead Person]s. Red-hot slugs fired into the guardians, but they were too quick. Bullets and [Illuminate] burned his troops. The scholar fought with bursts of void and shadow, destroying soldiers like a merciless beast from another world. The hooded one stabbed and cut his way through soldiers like a mad dancer, sending waves of lightning that decimated his troops. Bracus Ma'aurg ran. His soldiers did not. Neither him nor his troops survived. [i]Mare Crisium, Luna[/i] The two individuals Tsar-5 and Savyk had caught were both awoken, both former hunters, and both passed out. They had taken them to a desolate patch of the moon, the sea of crisis, to talk. Find out what they knew. The vanguard had already called off the search for the Concordat. They couldn't afford any witch hunts in the city. The first captive to wake up had the green fist of the concordat tattooed on her arm, and hunter stealth gear, alongside a cabal ID tag around her neck. She was tied to an old satellite array, with her companion a few feet away tied to a support for a building. Both had oxygen masks, with the pump leading to a tank next to Savyks. "What... Who are you? What do you want?" The awoken started, staring at the two guardians. "You work for the Concordat. You helped kill a guardian in the crucible. He was one of my friends, and a damn good fighter. I don't take kindly to that." Savyk's face hardened, staring down the awoken. "Alright, alright, you caught me. I fight the good fight for the Concordat. But I don't know anything about killing someone in the crucible." "Bull. You tell me what you know, or I'll let out all your air and let you breath in moon rocks. You know what that does to someone? Shreds their lungs to bits, makes you drown on your own blood. So talk." Savyk was tugging on the air hose leading to the two masks, and Tsar looked a bit concerned. "We need these two alive if we want any-" "Can it, Tsar. I'm getting some answers outta these thugs. TALK." He pulled on the hose, making the awoken grab her mask to keep it on. "Alright, alright, jeese! But I don't know anything. I just fly the ship and talk Cabal. You'll need to talk to my sister." She pointed at the other awoken, who was beginning to wake. "Eegh.... Aledra where the... Ah. Guardians." This awoken had both arms docked in the Fallen tradition, and had been replaced by mechanical limbs. "Tell us who your boss is, where to find him, or we pull the plug on both of you." Savyks wasted no time in explaining the awoken's choices. "Go **** yourself." "I suggest you listen... He's not very patient at present. Or at all..." Tsar-5 advised. "We did our job. The Concordat will live on without us. So like I said, Lightboy. Go **** yourself." "I have this, Savyks. Just give me a moment." Tsar said, before pulling off his helmet and stretching his hand out to the awoken. A small tendril of light latched onto the awoken's hand, and others spread out across their bodies. -Tell me what you know- <Get out of my head.> -I will, if you tell me who your boss is, and where he lives- <No! Why would I tell you anything, light-loving idiot> -because you and your sister can still leave- <what?> -you can still go home to the reef. You have been forgiven. She would be safer there. You would too- <how did you...> -answers. Now. Then go, go home and apologize join your people I JUST NEED ANSWERS- [i]Guardian's Dungeon, Old Russia, Earth[/i] Mkavo hated the city. He hated the traveler. He hated the very concept of light. He hated himself, when he wasn't distracted. He was very good at hating. And so too, he learned, were guardians. Guardians could hate like nothing else, and they gave that hate form, function, power. That would prove useful. He did not serve the Dark, but he saw its potential. Mkavo was a practical man. He knew who would win this war. The Light was a dead God and mad warriors. The dark was Truth, pure and simple. He needed that Truth to beat the city. Some thought they could win this was with roses and words. He knew different. He needed to use this Truth. He needed to speak it, learn it, embody it. And he had come here to learn from the best. Executor Adrin's security code worked, and he was permitted into the massive underground structure. As he passed the creatures eyeing him like rats, he hated them, first as a whole and then individually. It was practice. The task ahead would require it. Where was it? He could feel it, like a tumor in the universe. Like some twisted perversion of a sun, sending dying radiation into empty halls and forgotten souls. The halls were endless. Guardians pleaded to be let out, or even to be killed. He ignored them. They would serve the plan, but not now. Not now. He entered another hall. He passed gibbering vex machines, dark-eyed hive lords, seeds of raw darkness contained in a material shell. Then he found it. It's blackened edges were clearly recognizable, iconic as a bomb crater. It's very being spoke of pain, of the joy in bringing pain, the very essence of pain in all its forms, sorrow, grief, regret. Mkavo needed no rose to win this war. For now he had a Thorn. [i]Prison of Elders, Asteroid Belt[/i] The cell hadn't been opened since the Faction Wars in that city under the Great Machine. It was quite small, human sized. It's guards were few, and none particularly skilled. Just some politician from the City who the speaker needed away. Just another madman trying to rule a world of gods. That is what Captain Naviks had always thought. This one would never be opened for the arena. Who wants to fight some old man with a few harsh words? He didn't know why the man was there. Some say he had tried rebellion. That he had attempted to scale the Great Machine in an act of hubris. All he knew was that it didn't matter anymore. No one was going to save him. But as he turned the corner, pulling on his mask before the human-air killed him, he saw something he never thought he would. The cell was empty. The guards dead, their ether sputtering up into the air. The alarm was raised, and Naviks led the search. They wouldn't last long out here. No way out of the asteroid, not without escaping the entire awoken fleet. The search went on for hours, scraping through tunnels and sniffing for a scent where there were hundreds. Naviks searched every compartment, every hall, and came up with nothing. Until he saw the shadow. And a pair of eyes that he had only seen once before. A myth on the edge of reality, lurking between the lines of truth and rumor. Xûr. And behind him, an older human, armed with a shrapnel launcher. His face was scarred and determined in the way madmen were, and all Neviks could think was [i]Skolas. This is going to be another damned Skolas.[/i] The captain was found dead, with worm-holes riddling his body and all valuables stripped. Word was sent to the city. Lysander had escaped the prison of elders.