"This is Lynx-23! We are under attack by a patrol of Fallen, house of devils! Requesting immediate assistance! Wait-- what now?! I have a visual on multiple Fallen, I don't recognize the house! Repeat unknown Fallen house! They must be re-enforcements! ... What in the...? They've just opened fire on the devils!--" *** Rixian hated it. He hated being a dreg, he hated his captain, but most of all he hated his house, the house of kings. He couldn't think of anything more humiliating in his life than the docking ceremony. He had entered a room filled with looks of sadistic amusement, his head was abruptly forced into the ground by the foot of the baron. He held back a yell as a surge of searing pain coursed through him as his lower two arms were severed off. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of a scream. Then the baron placed the devices that would prevent him from re growing his arms. "Welcome to the house" he thought. They would pay for that. Rixian was out on patrol with his crew. Four dregs, two vandals, a captain, and a few shanks. As usual, his captain was forcing he and his fellow dregs to sift through the more dangerous looking machinery, exposed wiring, sharp bits of metal, etc. if he found anything particularly interesting, Rixian would always keep it for himself, "why should they get the good things?" He thought to himself. He felt a vandal beat him upside the head with a shock rifle, "work faster!". In his fumbling around in the mechanical scraps to appease his higher-up, Rixian cuts himself on some jagged metal, ether slowly rising from the wound in his hand. The vandal behind him scoffed, "I said work faster, filth!" Raising his rifle for another strike. Rixian was beaten severely, almost to the point of unconsciousness, but to the vandal's utter astonishment, he grabbed the end of the rifle before it's next strike, ether still pouring from the wound in his hand. In his confusion, the vandal lost his grip on the weapon as Rixian grabbed it and swung it at him. It was a killing blow. Fed up with his mistreatment, Rixian set his sights on the rest of his crew. They would all pay, every last one of them. He shot the other, unaware vandal, directly in the head, grabbing up his rifle as well. He then opened fire on the shanks hovering about. When the other dregs turned to him, he let out a shriek as he blasted them all to oblivion with arc bolts. All that was left was the captain, who was furious with this outburst. He grabbed Rixian by the throat and broke the two shock rifles with ease. He then threw him to the ground and stomped his head into the dirt. Rixian was pinned. The captain pointed his blades down at the lowly dreg. But then, the most miraculous thing happened. Filled with rage, as if out of spite, Rixian's two lower arms seemed to instantly sprout with a spout of ether. The docking devices were smashed, his new hands holding them with a death grip. The astounded captain stumbled back, unsure how this filth gained his newfound appendages. The dreg then rose up and tackled the captain, stabbing him with the broken remnants of the infernal devices he once wore. Once the captain stopped moving, Rixian rolled off of his corpse, exhausted and wounded. He slumped up against the wreckage of an alien machine. Then, off in the distance, he heard something. A sort of low humming sound. The humming of sparrow engines. End of part one. Part two: http://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/91637099