Chapter 1
When humanity first climbed above the rest of the animals on Earth, it did so with cunning, fortitude, and ferocity. Man mastered the use of tools, banded together, and grasped concepts that the simpler creatures on Earth simply could not comprehend. Mankind exploded across the surface of the planet, creating cultures, religions, and stories to be shared and traded with all walks of life. Not every meeting was peaceful, however, and mankind became proficient in Earth's most common pastime: war.
Clubs and spears yielded to swords and bows. Spears and bows were cut down by rifles and cannons. Mounted cavalry fell to machine gun fire. Bunkers and trenches trapped on the ground fell prey to the airplanes that soared free in the sky. With each war, innovation and competition hurried humanity along the path of their evolution. Then, one day, in a lull between empires, everything changed.
It started, as these things often did, with a mistake. A faulty sensor node near Mars that required an astronaut's touch, the remote controlled bots too clumsy to effect the repairs. When the repair team arrived, they found something no man had ever seen before.
The Traveler. A gargantuan sphere, white in color and brimming with power, what we would later refer to as Light. The methods of communication between the Traveler and humanity is something of a mystery, but shortly after its discovery humanity entered a Golden Age to surpass any others in its history. The denizens of Earth shed their shackles and spread out among the stars. Whole worlds were discovered, colonized, and terraformed to allow for even more expansion. Artificial humans were created, the Exos, and they too added their light to the cosmos. A Speaker was chosen every century or so, and over the years was charged to commune and give aid as the Traveler dictated, though few knew the rituals that chose these enigmatic individuals that led humanity. The Traveler had brought peace and great prosperity to humanity. But no Golden Age lasts forever.
Even a being as great as the Traveler had enemies. An all consuming entity, referred to simply as the Darkness, followed the Traveler to humanity's doorstep. Weapons of light and millions of soldiers fought in defense of humanity's great empire, but the Darkness had allies as well.
First, there was the Fallen, four-armed bandits that scavenged and stole everything they could sink their claws into. These vultures picked apart every technological marvel they could find, often using mechanical supplements to better emulate their machine gods. They were organized into Houses, with each House led by a vicious Kell that ruled with an iron fist. The word of the Kell was law, and all that ignored it were put to the sword. The Fallen bent their knee to Servitors, large floating robots that looked like purple mechanical eyes. These machines converted precious resources into Ether, a substance that all Fallen required to live. The Fallen Houses often fought among themselves, but they all agreed on one thing: humanity was their enemy.
Then, there was the Vex, mysterious machines that controlled the very fabrics and strings of time. These robots operated with a joined mind, a single vast consciousness spanning over a million units at a time. The larger the Vex, the more pivotal it was in their vast network. Because of this, the metal warriors were capable of reacting instantaneously. This reaction was amplified by the complex translocation networks that covered every planet influenced by the Vex. Their models were a mixture of metal and mind, with their central processors being organic. According to many esteemed Warlocks, the Vex maintained a monopoly on the manipulation of time itself. In many cases, soldiers fighting against these metal monstrosities were thrown into the dark corners of time, forced to live out the rest of their lives in useless isolation.
Perhaps the most aggressive enemy to the City was the Hive, a cacophony of corpses clawing their way to consume the Light. Steeped in dark magic and ancient rituals, the Hive was a hierarchy of monsters, each as cunning as they were revolting. For every soldier defending humanity, there were thirty charging Thrall. If the Thrall were defeated, the more tenacious Acolytes would step to the task. Above the Acolytes were Wizards and Knights, pillars of decaying strength and perverse spells. At the top of the Hive leadership, the Ascendant Hive were as Gods, their might drawing on the Darkness itself as they slew millions in their conquest.
Perhaps the most civilized of the Darkness' minions, the Cabal threatened humanity with every measured step. A race of large and warlike creatures whose empire spanned galaxies, these 'space turtles' weighed almost half a ton apiece, and were extremely regimented in both their society and their military. Whenever a Cabal Legionary leaves their empire, he is banished unless he returns in victory. Until Earth falls, the ancient customs of the honor bound Cabal refuse to allow them to return home. Bonds forged in combat and years of training ensure absolute loyalty among the Cabal, and their leaders will often be seen at the front of every charge.
All of these forces bore down upon humanity, and humanity could not stop them. Every world was fought for, and every world went silent. Massive battles, the sheer scope simply beyond comprehension, waged as humanity fought to defend their savior. The war lasted for so long, but humanity was pushed back to Earth. In the final moments of the war, the Traveler spoke for the last time; Light echoed from Earth to the far edges of the Sol system, pushing back the Darkness and giving the forces under its command pause. But with that final push, the Traveler fell silent. On that day, the Traveler died.
Humanity crept out from beneath their broken god, and found that the world was still theirs. Their empire had been torn down around them, but they yet lived. A strange mutation occurred in some humans, however. Their skin turned various hues of blue or purple, their eyes glowed, and their veins showed with tracks of light racing through them. Many of these changed people, these Awoken, fled to the Reef, a cluster of destroyed ships and asteroids in Sol's asteroid belt.
The day the Traveler died, something else happened. Ghosts, little embodiments of light, appeared all over the Earth. The sought out warriors, those fallen in the great Collapse, and one by one, brought them back. These resurrected warriors wielded great power and Light, and so long as their Ghost was intact, they would not die. The Traveler settled onto Earth, and all of humanity converged underneath it to build the last great City. They were harassed from all sides by the servants of the Darkness, but the resurrected warriors fought pack as humanity made its pilgrimage to the City. The warriors were then called Guardians, and their valor and sacrifice earned them great renown.
Once safe underneath the Traveler, humanity began to rebuild. Centuries passed, and as they did, the Guardians painted themselves into legend. The Light they wielded came in three forms: Arc Light, the manipulation of electricity and currents; Solar Light, the scorching power of fire and the inferno; and Void Light, a mysterious dark energy that disintegrated foes into nothingness. Hunters, the scouts that moved through the wilderness like snakes in grass, their eyes sharp and their blades sharper. Titans, embodiments of strength and power, tore through their opponents with savagery and cunning. Warlocks, the abstract thinkers and conjurers, bent the rules of the universe itself as they eradicated their opponents. These Guardians stood in defense of the City and all who dwelt within it, in service to their charges and the Traveler. Many Guardians ventured into the dark to reclaim the lost treasures of humanity, but they did not always return. As the years passed, it became evident that while they were resilient, Guardians were not immortal. Immune to age and sickness, a Guardian's death was only permanent if their Ghost was also lost. No one could explain how the Ghosts were created, but one thing was certain: there wasn't going to be any more.
This fact was made painfully obvious when the Hive took the moon, gouging and digging their way deep into its core as they claimed it as their own. In the span of the Collapse, such a loss was paltry given that Earth itself almost fell. However, when the Guardians were born, a massive effort was made to reclaim the moon from its undead masters. The Hive God Crota, Son of Oryx, slew thousands of Guardians with his dark blade, devouring their Light and ending lives with every sweep of his sword. Every Ghost and Guardian lost was one less to defend the walls of the City, and soon the Vanguard, Guardians of such great renown they were elected as de facto leaders of the Guardians, recalled the great mass of Guardians that had fought so hard to reclaim the Golden Age. The moon remained lost, and the Hive consolidated their power within. Content with his conquest, Crota slept in his new home, waiting to answer a call no Guardian could explain as the Hive God prepared for the next assault.
Now, Guardians make forays into the dark in service to the City, but only alone or in small teams. The tactic limits the amount of Guardians placed in harm's way, but now each Guardian must face down vastly superior numbers in order to survive. It is a process that creates tough, battle hardened individuals, but not every newborn Guardian survives this harrowing. With Guardians falling every day, the Darkness waits patiently, until there are no more defenders of the Light...
The punch caught Horst off guard, and Shaax pursued the advantage with a combination knee strike and headbutt that sent the smaller Titan to the floor, though he didn't stay there long. Horst rolled as he fell and came up to his knees, glad for there to be some distance between himself and his mentor. Lord Shaax was the handler over the Crucible, the war games that fine tuned Guardians against the forces of Darkness by pitting them against each other in fights that were epic, sometimes bordering on cataclysmic. The large man wore a helmet with a red stripe down the center, his face hidden by a full face plate. A horn decorated either side of the helm, but the one on the left had been sheared off in some battle years ago. Shaax had kept it as memento to the Guardian that had inflicted it, and then later beat the poor Hunter to a pulp. Shaax had a bolt of fur that coiled around his neck and towards his shoulders, which were protected by massive pauldrons. His arms were armored with gauntlets that were too heavy for starting Titans, a testament to how powerful the legendary Titan was. Shaax's legs were covered in a similar manner to his arms, with flat, slanted plates protecting his thighs and large knee joints to protect his patella. A stiff pair of shin guards and stout boots rounded out Shaax's armor, and the entire outfit was done in red and white. A mark, a thick ribbon of specially treated cloth, cascaded down from his right hip, a bright red and sporting an emblem of crossed swords inside of a circle, the Mark of the Crucible. The cloth ended just above his ankle, and proved no hindrance in a fight such as this.
"Come on, if you can eat a rocket, you can eat a punch. Back to it." Shaax said as he smacked his fist. Despite his size, the man's voice was always calm and measured, like a volcano rumbling in the distance. His demeanor was always sure and quiet, though no one in the City doubted his ability to tear your arm off and beat you with it. That was one of the reasons Horst had requested Shaax to apprentice under.
"Master, I usually have to resurrect after eating a rocket." Horst said as he rose to his feet, his hands up to defend from any more strikes. He was roughly six and a half feet tall, and broad shouldered as many Titans were. His armor was nowhere near as ornate and decorated as Shaax's. His helmet was all angles, two flat and vertical sides, and a single light indicating his forward sensor. The front face plate slanted downward as well, and there was a short wing jutting out from behind the helmet. When he had first found the helmet, Horst had thought it both cool and functional, until Shaax had demonstrated how easily he could use the wing as a handle and beat his ass to a pulp. His chest plate was thick and angled downward as well, to redirect rounds that made it past his protective light barrier. His greaves and boots were of similar design to Shaax's, but his gauntlets and pauldrons were very special. The metal was stylized and intricate, an armor design referred to as the Ruin Wings. True to the name, the metal pauldrons curved and flowed like wings in flight, and his gauntlets flowed back toward his body for maximum protection. The armor modification inherent in the Ruin Wings design allowed for more efficient ammunition manipulation by his Ghost, with less matter going to waste as the little spark of Light manipulated the atoms of his weapons. In contrast to Shaax's red and white, Horst's armor was a metallic silver, and the cloth on the suit of his arms and pants a deep blue. His mark was similar in size and shape to Shaax's, only it was golden and stitched with a large white hammer. He wore the Sunbreaker's Mark, a badge of honor that declared his earned right to carry the Hammer of Sol. Despite the master – apprentice relationship, Horst was by no means a novice Titan. He had combed the solar system, chasing down enemies of the City with murderous resolve, and he had even been involved in the defeat of Crota, a Hive God bent on Earth's total destruction.
Horst pulled his hands up in a guard as Shaax rushed again, dodging to the side at the last second to avoid two lightning jabs from the larger Titan. Horst blocked the back fist with his forearm and returned two more into Shaax's unprotected torso, earning a grunt as Shaax released the air in his lungs to compensate for the force. Shaax threw a haymaker that was easily blocked by Horst, but he used it to grab Horst's arm and pin it behind his back. Horst pivoted with the turn and followed the move to prevent his master from torquing his wrist, and slid a foot between Shaax's legs as they moved. When they spun a little more, Horst hooked his foot behind one of Shaax's ankles and pulled, sending them both to the ground. What followed was a barely coordinated roll of grapples and punches that ended with Shaax sitting on Horst's back, his student to tired to move.
"Well done, lad. Keep up your training, and you'll beat me yet." Shaax said with a chuckle and stood. He offered a hand to his protege, and Horst took it. The smaller Titan coughed as he stood, and brushed off his mark.
"Somehow I doubt that, Lord Shaax. You've said that the last three hundred bouts, and I've yet to beat you." Horst's voice was a deep baritone, but he was much younger than Shaax. Then again, everyone was. The huge Titan had been one of the first Guardians ever, and had helped found the Crucible as a way to train Guardians. A shimmer of light, like a rain of bright cubes, appeared at Horst's shoulder, and his Ghost appeared.
"Actually, you've only lost two hundred and eighty three times. If that helps." The Ghost said cheerfully, thoroughly enjoying the show. Horst grunted at that, and Shaax laughed again. The Ghost had several rounded facets that were centered around his central eye, and these facets could separate from the main body and spin at their own volition. Its shell was painted black with a single crimson stripe running down the middle, a painstaking task undertaken by Horst shortly after he had been resurrected.
"Join in whenever you feel like it, Switch. I'm sure you'd be a great help." Horst snarked as he rolled the shoulder where Shaax had attempted to pin his arm. Despite getting out of it, the limb was still sore. Switch floated around his Guardian, bobbing in merriment as he examined Horst for injuries.
"Oh absolutely. I'll spin my wings at him. He won't see it coming." When Ghosts and Guardians meet, many find out that there are two outcomes: two different personalities that supported one another, or two remarkably similar ones. In the case of Horst and Switch, it was mostly the latter. They were both smart asses.
"Alright you two, enough. That's it for training today." Shaax said, and Horst bowed slightly to his mentor. "However, I do have a surprise for you. Follow me." Shaax motioned toward the automatic sliding door of the training room, and the two walked out. They found themselves in a hallway largely comprised of concrete and granite, with white circular lights in the center of the ceiling every fifteen feet or so. The hallway had six training rooms in total, three on either side, and ended at an elevator. The Training Floor was relatively small, but this tended to happen near the top of the Tower. Shaax hit the elevator call button, then turned around to face his apprentice as they waited for the car to come up.
"Do you remember that little fetch quest I had you do, running around down in Africa?" Shaax asked, and Horst nodded wearily. THAT had been quite the mission. Find Light-reactive metals deep in the jungles of Africa, where a Hive seeder had landed eons ago. As corpses are wont to do, the Hive that had been transported with the inactive seeder had taken exception to Horst and Switch bumbling around their graves.
"I do, master. I also remember finding out how squishy an Ogre's brain is." A towering Hive abomination, Ogres were multi-eyed behemoths that even the Exalted Hive couldn't control. Similar in size and reputation to the ancient Cyclops, these fifteen foot tall monsters shot beams of energy from their clusters of eyes, and had the strength to tear a building apart. Horst had punched one in the face after falling twenty feet.
"The Fist of Havoc is meant to do widespread damage, but it can be focused on a single point. But I digress," Shaax said with a wagging finger. "The materials you provided, along with the motes of Light you've gathered in your travels, have allowed me a unique opportunity to revive some of the older techniques of the Titans, back when we first wielded the Light."
The elevator chimed gently, and the double doors opened, allowing the two Guardians to step inside. A holographic projection of the Tower appeared, and Shaax tapped the top. The doors closed, and the only sign that they began to move was the quiet whirring Horst could hear around them.
"So, are we talking a new technique, some new armor, a new gun? Suspense and theatrics aren't like you, master." Horst prodded, earning another laugh from Shaax.
"That is true, my student. But today calls for a little bit of drama. I haven't created something like this since the first of the Bladedancers. But I won't spoil it now." Shaax waved off his prodding, and another gentle chime indicated that they had reached their destination. The elevator opened up into an open courtyard at the top of the Tower, a sight that Horst had seen many times, and appreciated every time he visited. In the distance, the Traveler loomed over a bustling city, the mid day sun glancing off of the large white orb. Despite the fact that it hadn't moved or spoken in centuries, the Traveler still held itself aloft above the City. The walls on the perimeter were colossal and airtight, with Guardians as well as regular soldiers patrolling at all times. The Tower itself, the home of all Guardians, loomed high over the City from the southern wall. A hangar took up much of the left side of the top of the Tower, but a busy marketplace dominated the main floor. Banshee-44, an Exo gunsmith born in the Golden Age, hawked his weapons and wares in between bouts of forgetfulness. Master Rahool, a blue skinned Awoken clad in robes, offered the services of the Cryptarchs, a gathering of Warlocks that sought the secrets left behind from the Golden Age. A few androids were there as well, staffing the Bounty tracker for any harder to kill targets, and the Postmaster, a nervous little robot dedicated to making sure all packages arrived on time.
Shaax and Horst crossed the marketplace quickly, their large forms parting the bustling activity of Guardians, citizens, and vendors as life went on as usual. The business of holding back the Darkness was lucrative to the lucky few that stockpiled weapons, ammunition, and Glimmer: a source of programmable matter that was used as an energy source prior to the collapse. Nowadays, Glimmer was used as currency, since creating weapons was not as efficient as finding them. Shaax and Horst made their way to the right, towards the residential area of the Tower. Down a couple flights of steps and through a hallway, master and student found themselves in another courtyard, one with a small observatory built into it. Scattered mutterings could be heard from within the observatory, and the two Titan crossed the iron gangway that led to the Office of the Speaker. An impossibly large gyro sphere took up most of the room, a rotating rack of instruments and computers that were largely pointed at the Traveler. Books and data files were scattered about in neat but ever present piles, and a flight of stairs curled up the left side of the room. Shaax and Horst climbed the stairs slowly, and found the person that could be loosely considered the current leader of humanity: the Speaker.
The man before them wore simple white robes, with gray and silver undertones at his arms and legs. His mask concealed his face entirely, and a faceted silver and black face plate stood out from his black hood. The Speaker had lived for hundreds of years, communing and observing the Traveler in hopes that it would wake once again. Despite its refusals, the Speaker was often the one to go to in terms of Light and Darkness, and was considered a mentor and leader to all. His desk was covered with complicated instruments and communication equipment, though Horst could also see a long, cloth covered object on the desk as well.
"Lord Shaax. I trust this is the Guardian you spoke so highly of." The Speaker said with an audible smile. His voice carried his age, though he always gave off a kind and caring air. Shaax nodded and stepped to the side so that the Speaker could appraise Horst.
"That he is. I've trained him as well as his own travels have shaped him. I figured a little reward was in order." Shaax said mysteriously as the two looked at Horst. In his early days, Horst would have fidgeted under the gaze of two of the most powerful men in the City. Now, he simply looked back at them in slight confusion.
"You two are definitely enjoying this little drama. I appreciate all the training and advice that you have given me, I don't see the need for a reward." Horst said modestly. Shaax and the Speaker looked at each other, and then shared a laugh.
"The essence of a Titan: giving without thought of reward. While we have tutored and guided you on your path, you have given us nothing but effort and resolve." The Speaker praised, and Shaax nodded in agreement.
"Tell me, Horst: what is my philosophy on the doctrines of the Titan?" Shaax asked with a gesture, and Horst stood a little bit straighter as the elder Titan's teachings came to mind.
"The Striker, a fist from above. The Defender, a shield against which the Darkness breaks. The Sunbreaker, a command of the battle through fire and death. All of them have their strengths, but every doctrine has its weakness. Thus, they are strongest when combined." Horst said with conviction, and Shaax nodded. Horst had mastered the ways of the Striker and the Defender before he had approached Shaax for tutelage, and the Crucible master had instructed Horst to seek out the Sunbreakers: a mercenary tribe of Titans capable of wielding Solar light and a weapon synonymous with victory: the Hammer of Sol. A weapon created entirely of Light, the Hammer of Sol was a fiery creation that exploded on impact, allowing Sunbreakers to hurl explosive Light all over their enemies. The Solar Light imbued them with energy, and made it harder to kill them as well. Once Horst had returned, the Hammer of Sol at his command, Lord Shaax had agreed to train him in earnest. Once under Shaax's relentless tutelage, Horst had been forced to break down the rigid barriers that separated the three doctrines, and merged them into one broad strategy.
"That is correct, my student. And in this merging, I felt that you needed a weapon to remind you of this harmony." As Shaax said this, the Speaker turned around and lifted the cloth covered item with reverence, before turning and facing Horst again. Whatever the weapon was, it was nearly five feet in length, and shaped oddly for a firearm. As Horst watched, Shaax removed the cloth slowly, and all thoughts of bullets left Horst's mind.
In the Speaker's hands was a beautiful sword. A silver blade stretched elegantly from a golden hilt, the blade itself almost a foot thick and tempered to take a hammering. It was a one-sided blade, the other side broad and designed to block and allow its wielder to reinforce strikes with an additional hand if necessary. On the broad side, a brilliant white gem gleamed from the cross guard, its surface swirling like a cloud as it contained the Light within. Horst stepped forward hesitantly, but with more confidence as Shaax stepped to the side. He grasped the grip of the blade firmly and lifted it from the Speaker's hands, marveling at how light and balanced it was. The grip was wide enough for a two handed grip, but it was light enough to be wielded in one hand if necessary. Horst gazed at the weapon in wonder, then slid it across his back. As it slid downward, Switch materialized half of a scabbard into the armor, giving the bade a secure place to rest. With a satisfying click, Horst released his new sword and rolled his shoulders. It felt good.
"I can't even begin to tell you two how grateful I am." Horst said, still shocked at the generosity of his master and the Speaker. "There's nothing I could have done to deserve this honor, and I thank you for it." Shaax waved off his gratitude.
"We told you, Horst. You have fought the Darkness for years now, and we are arming you for the fights ahead. It was something you have deserved for quite some time, we only just now had the time and resources to complete it. I know you will take care of that blade." Shaax tilted his head in what was interpreted as an amused grin. "But you owe that sword a name."
Horst turned his head to glance back at his beautiful sword, and no name jumped out at him. Naming a weapon personified it, and put in words everything you hoped to accomplish with it. He was tasked to describe in very few words what the sword embodied, and at this point he could not come up with anything.
"If it's all the same to you, masters, I'd like to test it before coming up with a name." Horst said with a bow. Lord Shaax laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, the blow from the larger Titan almost enough to knock him over.
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I knew that I had made the right choice in taking you on as an apprentice." The large Crucible handler then turned to the Speaker, as did Horst. "Thank you for assistance in this matter, your Grace. I couldn't have imbued the blade with enough light without your help." Shaax said formally, and bowed to the Speaker. The man returned his bow graciously.
"I was happy to help, Lord Shaax. It isn't every day I get to dabble in the life of a legend." The Speaker said, and turned back to his instruments. Whether he meant Shaax or Horst, neither Titan knew, but it was high praise either way. Together, master and pupil made their way back down the stairs and toward the training room.
When they reentered the Training Room, Shaax walked over to the far side of the room and called up a holographic console. Several keyboards and a display appeared, and the large Titan began setting up a training exercise. While he did that, Horst unsheathed his new sword from his back, and Switch materialized in front of him.
"What do you think, Switch? Isn't it awesome?" The Ghost examined the blade carefully as Horst held it out, scanning it to both observe its quality and save its make-up if he ever had to re-materialize it. When he finished, Switch floated back up to eye level.
"It's definitely an impressive blade, but I don't see how a sword is going to be useful in a time where everyone has a gun." The Ghost replied honestly. Horst was about to retort, but was interrupted by a chuckle from Shaax.
"Your answer is likely derived from your experiences with Hive Knights and Fallen Vandals that your Guardian has killed without pause. You have never faced an opponent armed with one of my blades." Shaax finished his modifications and closed the console, prompting a training dummy to appear in the center of the room, next to Horst. Switch de-materialized and took up his rightful spot inside of Horst's head, and the Titan stood in a ready stance, his feet shoulder width apart with his left foot forward. He bent his knees and leaned forward slightly, his weight already on the balls of his feet if he had to run or dodge to the side. The dummy in front of him began to change as Shaax's modifications took hold, and the hard light construct soon took on the appearance of Horst. The copy of Horst rolled its neck, and then grabbed an auto rifle of unknown make out of mid air.
"I will answer your question first, Switch: what good is a sword against a gun? The answer: very, if you know how to use it." Shaax said as he walked the perimeter of the ring with his hands behind his back. Without warning, the training dummy shouldered its rifle and fired at Horst, projectiles of hard light coming at him at blinding speeds. Horst rolled to his left, keeping the blade up and at his center to prevent any accidents. It wasn't difficult, but it made the roll more cumbersome and slower than he'd have liked.
This will take some getting used to. Horst thought grimly as he gained his feet. The dummy sighted on him to fire again, but stopped at Shaax's direction.
"Think of the blade as you do your other weapons. It is an extension of yourself in two respects: it is a weapon that moves and reacts as you do, and it is an channel for your light. Think Defender, and try to block the attack." Shaax held a hand up and snapped his fingers, and suddenly the dummy fired. Thinking quickly, Horst brought his sword up horizontally and shift a hand behind the dull edge of the blade, as if he were to block an incoming strike. He channeled the Light he would normally reserve for Defender techniques, and suddenly a small Void shield appeared in front of him, a purple barrier of Light that absorbed the bullets for him. In response to his Light, the gem in the cross guard turned a deep purple. The shield held for another moment before Horst's concentration broke and he dropped the blade back down to a two-handed grip. The shield had drained him somewhat, but it was nowhere near the effort of erecting a full Ward of Dawn like Defenders were trained to do.
"Whoa. That was cool." Horst stated in amazement, and Shaax clapped in approval.
"Your first time trying it and you make a shield. Well done. Now, let's see what else you can do. Attack, and think Solar energy." Shaax instructed, and Horst did not hesitate. Channeling the Light meant for his fire based Sunbreaker attacks, Horst closed the distance between himself and the training dummy. The dummy fired, but Horst side stepped the rounds and held the blade low beside him, sharp edge pointed toward the dummy. When he got close enough, a vicious uppercut slashed the training dummy in half, dispelling the hard light construct with a blaze of fire that seemed to add even more power behind the swing. Again, he felt a slight drain on his personal energy reserves, but nothing in comparison to summoning his Hammer of Sol. Horst looked down at his sword in amazement, watching the gem burn bright orange before returning to its cloudy white hue. Shaax called up another dummy, the same as the last, and situated it several paces away from Horst.
"Now that you have attacking and defending figured out, it's time to mix things up. I want you to strike the dummy without getting near it." Shaax said with a devious undertone. Horst looked at him for a moment, and then took a moment to think. They had already used Void Light and Solar Light, which only left...
Before he had time to plan any further, the dummy opened fired, catching him off guard. Horst blocked the rounds as he had before, then spun and slashed the air horizontally. As he did, a sparkling arc of lightning jumped from the blade, slicing the training dummy in two before continuing on into the wall, leaving a black scorch mark four feet long. Horst smiled underneath his helmet at the accomplishment; the sword was simply incredible! While he was attached to the various weapons he had found in his adventures, this sword was very likely to become his new favorite.
"Well done, Horst. You've taken what I've taught you to heart, and applied it to your swordplay. Now I have no doubt you deserve that blade." Shaax stepped into the ring and clapped his student on the back, nearly causing him to drop the still unnamed blade.
"You had doubts before?" Horst asked with an invisible grin, and earning a chuckle from Shaax.
"No, and I don't think I ever will. But the question remains: what will you call it?" Horst thought hard as he looked down, his armored reflection blurry in the folded metal of his sword. It was unique in many ways, but Horst wanted a name that reflected its ability to channel all three forms of Light, both as a testament to the blade's power and a tribute to his mentor. And suddenly, a name came to him.
"How about... Chimera?" Horst offered. Switch appeared beside him as the Ghost and Shaax mulled the name over a bit. The larger Titan nodded several times.
"Yes, the mixture of three beasts. I like it. Chimera! Such a good name!" Shaax said enthusiastically, and Horst felt a surge of pride at his mentor's praise. Shaax was far from a coddling mentor, but he was not without an uplifting manner. That, and praise from a Titan as accomplished as Lord Shaax would make any Guardian grin. Switch looked between the two Titans, and sighed dramatically.
"It's a good name, I suppose. You organics and your theatrics. I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but-" Switch was knocked from his good natured ribbing by the pommel of Chimera, nearly sending the Ghost to the ground as it blinked rapidly. "Alright, alright! It's a good name. Sheesh, can't take a joke around here." Switch complained as he de-materialized. Horst returned Chimera to his back with pride. He looked at Shaax, and saw a hand extended to him from the large warrior. Horst grasped his teacher's forearm without hesitation and shook it firmly, trying to convey his gratitude for all that Shaax had done into one gesture.
"I can't even begin to repay you for all you've done for me, master." Horst said with great humility. Shaax nodded at first, then sighed and released Horst's arm, placing a hand on his shoulder instead.
"You can start by no longer calling me master." Shaax said with some measure of sadness in his voice. At Horst's sudden jerk of alarm, Shaax held up a hand. "I don't say this in a bad way; there is simply nothing more for me to teach you. I haven't fought with a blade in a long time, so I would be a poor teacher when compared to experience. Everything else that you can learn won't come from me." Horst nodded slowly, not fully accepting Shaax's words. It had been months since Shaax had agreed to teach him, and the two had bonded over that time, as masters and students do.
"I understand, mas- Lord Shaax." Horst corrected himself. "I don't know of anyone else that has given me so much, even the Traveler."
"Continue on this path, and you'll have your own students. And you have earned the right to just call me Shaax. After so much time spent as your master, I am proud to consider you my equal. In everything except good looks, anyway." The two Titans shared a laugh at that, and Shaax released Horst's shoulder. It was an end of an era, but Horst knew that the future was ever brighter. Together, the two walked out of the Training Room.
Weeks passed, and with it so did hundreds of the Darkness' forces. Fallen, Hive, Cabal, Vex; it did not matter. Horst's proficiency with Chimera reached the point where he would only carry the blade and a sidearm into battle. He would cleave his way through scores of enemies, alternating between the three styles Titans used and inflicting heavy losses upon his enemies. In his travels, he assisted a few other Guardians in liberating a bunker from the Fallen that belonged to the Warmind Rasputin, an A.I. that had once been responsible for the defense of all mankind. After they had fought off numerous waves of the pirates, Rasputin had been kind enough to let them go free, and had even offered a map of the galaxy from the Golden Age, with a list of many colonies at the time.
It was after this discovery that the Vanguard saw fit to call on Horst, who found himself stand at the large table where the Vanguard planned their moves. The Vanguard command was comprised of three people: Ikora Rey, Cayde-6, and Commander Zavala. Ikora Rey was a dark skinned human female with short, dark hair, and she was the representative of the Warlocks to the Vanguard. She had been alive during the Golden Age, and had survived long enough to be chosen by a Ghost, instead of the normal resurrection process most Guardians went through. Cayde-6 was an Exo male, and his quick wit represented the Hunters. He had stalked the Cosmodrome for years before being selected (enlisted) to lead in the Vanguard. His efforts in the field had earned him great renown, though his biting tongue and somewhat lazy approach to things almost lost it. Commander Zavala was an Awoken male, bald with light blue skin and wearing a huge amount of armor. He represented the Titans, and was usually the one in control of the military might. His stoic and no-nonsense approach had saved the lives of countless people, but it also left him open to endless teasing from Cayde and Ikora. It was these three, the heads of the Vanguard, that stared at Horst now.
"We appreciate you answering us so quickly." Ikora started, and Horst nodded in return. Cayde snorted from behind Ikora.
"That's her way of apologizing for saying, 'get down here right now!'" The Exo snarked, earning a simmering glare from Ikora. Zavala cleared his throat, and the two focused their attention back on Horst.
"Regardless of how you were summoned here, the point is that we have a mission for you." As he said this, his Ghost pulled up a galaxy map similar to what Rasputin had gifted to Horst earlier that month, projecting millions of stars and planets over the table. "Rasputin's database corroborates with our own records on a possible colony from the Golden Age that may have survived the Collapse." As he said this, the map zoomed in on a quadrant of the Milky Way, focusing on a world not unlike Earth. The image held for a moment, and then faded to a grainier, two dimensional image.
"It seems that Rasputin was so grateful, he included a recent image taken from three months ago." Zavala explained. In the image, the planet looked largely the same, with only one inconsistency: the moon had been nearly destroyed, with fragments of it floating in orbit like a dandelion in the wind.
"Oh yeah. The moon blown half to hell. Definitely means that things are okay down there." Cayde offered his input, much to Zavala's ire.
"The Speaker has detected a modicum of Light from this planet with his instruments, more so than a single stray Guardian could generate. The chances are slim, but we could possibly have allies out there that survived the war with the Darkness." Ikora added, allowing the two males of the Vanguard to glare at each other.
"Still though, the farthest I've ever traveled is within the solar system. It would take quite some time the reach a place like that with a warp drive." Horst said, examining the planet's position relative to Earth. This caused Cayde to chuckle and turn towards him.
"It's funny you mention time. You see, me and Ikora were thinking-"
"Going insane." Zavala muttered.
"THINKING that you could mosey on down to the Vault of Glass and manipulate one of their Time Gates and get there much more quickly." Cayde said with a shrug. Ikora nodded in confirmation, and Horst scratched the chin of his helmet.
"When the other Guardians took down Aetheon, they had to manipulate time and space itself to maintain a hold on the relic that kept them alive." Ikora continued. "With less... stressful conditions and no Vex to counter you, we have ample reason to believe that your Ghost could manipulate the Gate enough to shave a significant portion of time off of your travel. Otherwise, you'd float through space for years." She finished.
"Or, you could be thrown into the middle of the Collapse and killed." Zavala growled, and he did so again when Cayde threw a pencil at him.
"Whatever you decide, it's up to you. It is a mission, granted, but we leave up to you on how to proceed." Ikora said gently as Zavala proceeded to put Cayde in a headlock, smacking the struggling Hunter a few times before letting him go. Horst looked at Ikora for a long while, then to the map where the colony was located. It was a long shot, fraught with uncertainty and peril, and it was unlikely to succeed. Still, the alternative was to spend years floating in his ship, with only Switch for company...
"I hear Venus is nice this time of year."