[b]Five Years Ago [/b] [i]Archive Analysis: Fallen Topic: House, Kings Entered: Ray, Ikora[/i] Data on the Kings is rather… incomplete. I often find myself wondering what they are doing, to no avail. They are secretive and authoritative. Guardian analysis has revealed they have, more than likely, the most influence over other Fallen Houses. The reason is simple, they are powerful. From what I have gathered through personal endeavor and others reports, like other Fallen the Kings must develop through the harsh crucible of a semi-cast system. Each individual is separated by power and ability and treated accordingly. The one exception is the Machina class of Fallen. Shanks aren’t any more or less powerful in this House than others. Likewise, Servitors are put in the same category. The Fallen must claw, fight, and kill in order to survive. But in doing so, they gain honor. This, for lack of a better term, reputation system allows challenges to be made from one cast to another. Example: Dreg to Vandal or Vandal to Captain. If a member of the House proves itself worthy to face another of a higher cast, they enter into a ritualistic combat. Should the lower cast prevail, the influx of ether “grows” them into that cast. The Kings stand out among the Fallen for having the most brutal of these rituals. In order to prove themselves worthy, there is an entire process to even make the challenge. The challenger must first, and alone, slay another House’s cast of higher value. Example: Dreg must kill Vandal or higher, Vandal to Captain or higher. Ten. That is the number of targets that usually must be eliminated even before a challenge can be made. So not only does a member of the Kings have to earn its Honor, but also suffer a prerequisite before even being able to make a challenge. Clearly the other Houses are less than thrilled about this, which, makes the fights that much more bloody. The House of Kings also has a separate classification system at the level of Baron. I am making this assumption with a note to update information as it becomes available. Reports of a strange sigil has been seen among a select few Barons and Baronesses. Kell Risen. Voriks, Kepariks, [LAST REPORTED AMONG THE HOUSE OF WOLVES] and Yaltyr are the three we have been able to identify… at great cost. When the Baron of Kings kills the Kell of another Fallen House the Baron is given the option to become another Kell, or to remain a Baron. The Kell Risen is the most powerful of Barons. They possess the ability, skill, and power to Kill Kells of other Fallen Houses as well as one of their own. Any guardian who finds one of these Barons is encouraged to run at all costs. Caution given to any fire team of less than six. END [b]*** [/b] The last two sentences of Ikora’s report flashed through Drake’s mind. Voriks laughed, its deep guttural voice petrifying. Lorelei felt chills run up her spine as the monstrous Baron threw down its launcher and drew its cutlass. Her hairs stood on end as the Servitor and remaining Dreg bowed, stepping aside. Each pounding beat of her heart punched her rib cage. RUN was all that ran through her mind. Her legs went numb despite standing in her protective light. Her breathing became labored and her hands shook. Each step Voriks took, sent painful ghost shocks through her body. “Who,” Lorelei said gravely but stopped. “No. What is that.” “Voriks,” Drake responded. His voice stung of half reverence half disdain. “Kell Risen.” [b]Present Day [/b] Lance scowled at the number of Fallen troops along the dead highway. Spliced Dreg, Captains, and Vandals all patrolled the area in unnecessarily tight shifts. The snow was run over enough to form a small water reservoir along the highway. Shanks floated around, their crimson eyes burning through the snow. Let’s see, he thought to himself. One, two, three, his thoughts trailed further as he counted the targets. “We need back up,” Lance said. “No we don’t.” “Fifty-seven.” “So.” “You plan to mow through fifty-seven Fallen, board the Ketch, and… do whatever you plan on doing?” Lorelei nodded. Taking a step forward, she took a breath. Pulling a golden pocket watch from her pocket she opened it. The glass was cracked and the picture was faded. She bit her tongue and closed the watch. Putting it back, her thoughts dissipated, replaced with a burning blood lust. She put Cocytus back in her backpack and pulled Raze-Lighter from its holster. She dashed forward into shallow melted snow. The splash of icy water drew all attention to her. She slashed down three Dreg at once, cleaving their bodies apart. She stretched out her arms, the void energy culminating into a Ward of Dawn. Flurries of fire from all directions impacted the dome of light spawning orbs at her feet. Vandal challengers raced into the bubble and were met with overwhelming force. Hit hard enough, one Vandal was disintegrated into void light that was reabsorbed into Lorelei’s armor. “Do you plan to help?” Charlemagne asked as Lance stood stupid. He quickly snapped back to attention, a group of Spliced Shanks were floating toward the bubble as fast as they could. Lance shook his head and cut them off with a Truth rocket. With only three rockets left, he took out a group of Vandals, a Captain, and another onslaught of Shanks. Putting Truth onto its holster, he pulled the collapsible weapon from his backpack. Channeling arc energy into it, the reaper scythe cut into the air. Static snapped and heated electricity sizzled as snowflakes landed on the blade. He ran forward to join Lorelei. Lorelei picked up Fallen after Fallen and threw them out of her bubble. She stabbed, lacerated, and incinerated foe after foe until they surrounded the Ward of Dawn hesitant to enter. A splash echoed behind her. Swiftly turning and swinging Raze-Lighter down with her motion. The solar blade sparked against the arc scythe. The flash of light sparked and both guardians stared at each other. Their eyes intense and unwavering. Roars from the Fallen now charging in on the slight distraction broke their glare. Lance swung around, spinning the blade around his body. Pole maneuvers disoriented and confused the aliens. Flashes of light singed skin and cut through armor. Limbs were lost and rolled in the water. Lorelei burned through a Captain, gutting it before lighting the solar energy. They fought off hoard after hoard even after the bubble dissipated. Lance’s shields were peppered, but even after breaking the more painful it was the more he pushed through it. Lance, unrelenting, unforgiving, a monster among men. Deep inside, a lust brewed. Blood couldn’t quench the desire and with each body quelled by the scythe the darkness consumed him. Little by little he felt the effects of the blade. It at his energy, his life force. The light blue darkened to a deep auburn. As his blade pierced through the last Vandal within his scythe, it turned deep black. Lorelei simply brought her vengeance to the surface. Her shield was barely phased by the oncoming fire. Remorseless, absolute, a wall. She back fisted a dreg, shattering its jaw and neck. Teeth flew from its mouth and blood spewed into the water. An uppercut to the jaw of a Vandal sent the back of its head into its back. Captains and groups of Fallen were quelled by the inferno flames of her blade. As the last Fallen challenger fell to its knees, ether erupting from its body she turned. Lance felt a familiar pain in his chest. It was a five-year pain, not as severe but close. A shade closed over his eyes as they lost focus. He felt dizzy as a sudden jolt from deep within his body kicked up blood into his mouth. Lorelei watched as Lance used his scythe to brace himself. The black aura around the blade sparked like arc energy but as it was absorbed back into Lance’s body, he clenched his muscles and bit hard on his own teeth. He stumbled slightly as he collapsed his weapon and put it into its holster. A snap of atmosphere echoed over the highway. A Skiff in Kings colors broke orbit by the Ketch. A tattered Baron and a pair of Vandals fell from the drop ship. The Baron’s armor was dented and scratched. Worn through countless battles, paint was chipped off and its cape was ripped well beyond recognition. A pair of cutlass crossed its back and it held a Shrapnel Launcher in its hands. Melted into its armor was a giant gash. The laceration stopping right below the sigil above its heart. Kell Risen.